When Fallen Angels Fly
by InoFan
Summary: Slightly AU. 2x5/5x2. What happens when Duo and Wufei are left alone in a safe house without the other pilots to interfere?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me. If it did, the characters would probably kill me.

Note: This was my very first GW fanfic. It's cliche, it's AU, and obviously _very_ fandomized. But I remember enjoying writing it and I'm proud of it for the characterizations of Duo and Wufei, even if the plot sucks. Since I know my writing has since grown and there's no way in hell I'm editing this (too lazy) I'll stick it up as is because I am proud of my first attempt. Please overlook my once tendency to overuse commas. I seemed to have thought they belonged everywhere.

_"God will save his fallen angels  
And their broken wings he'll mend  
When he draws their hearts together  
And they learn to love again  
All their sins will be forgiven  
In the twinkle of an eye  
All the saints rejoice in heaven  
When the fallen angels fly"_  
Patty Loveless "When The Fallen Angels Fly"

The braided pilot was getting on his nerves. No, perhaps that was not strong enough. He was driving him stark raving mad. His incessant nannerings didn't leave him with a moments peace. He had read this same sentence three times now in an attempt to regain his train of thought. It wasn't often he was given the time to sit and do virtually nothing, so it was only natural that he would want to use that time constructively. And listening to Duo Maxwell run at the mouth was not it.

His strength of will the only thing that kept him from sighing aloud, Wufei Chang slowly lowered the book he had been reading and eyed Duo impassively. The Deathscythe pilot was dressed in a loose shirt and pants, presumably what he had worn to bed and not yet changed. His dark brown braid was flying about his body like an out of control whip, while his arms seemed to be competing with it for the appendage which would first cause Duo the most bodily harm. As was the usual case, he was rambling on about something, his words rushing together almost to the point where Wufei had given up deciphering them.

Duo was restless, and Wufei was to be the target for his boredom.

"Hey, Wu, are you listening to me?" Duo questioned, stopping long enough to plant his hands on his hips and offer Wufei one of his overly bright smiles.

Wufei pushed his glasses up further on his nose. "Hearing, yes. Listening, no."

Never one to let an opportunity pass him up, Duo pounced on that. "Want me to tell you again?"

"No!" Wufei responded, more forcefully than he had intended.

Duo threw his hands up. "Okay, okay. No need to get so excited about it."

"I am not excited," Wufei returned blandly.

No kidding, Duo thought to himself, resisting the urge to make a face at the serious pilot.

Of all the Gundam pilots to be cooped up with for the next few days, it had to be Wufei. Duo had never seen anyone have the capacity for tuning out another human being like he did. Heero was fairly good at it when he got going on that laptop of his, but even then, Duo could tell when he was getting through to him, if just by the occasional 'hn' that was thrown his way.

Wufei valued his privacy to the point where he spent long hours without speaking to anyone, or even coming out of his room. To someone who considered the thought of being in a room with only four walls to stare at and endless silence for company as close to real hell as he was going to get while still alive, it was unthinkable that someone could actually get enjoyment out of it.

With Heero, Trowa, and Quatre all off on their own separate missions, he was left to do just that. Which meant that suffering Wufei's company was better off than the alternative. Not to say that it was all bad. Wufei wasn't half bad to hang around when he was in one of his better moods. If he could get the other pilot to talk, some of the conversations they had were fairly interesting. It was getting past that first hurdle. Wufei could be incredibly stubborn when he wanted to be.

Turning his attention back to the Chinese boy, he picked up the end of his braid and fiddled with it absently, wondering how anyone could want to sit on the floor to read when there was a perfectly good chair to sit in or bed to lay on. Darting a quick glance around the room, he realized the decor reflected what he knew about Wufei. Virtually nothing. He wasn't exactly forthcoming with information, and getting anything out of him that didn't have relevancy to the current situation was next to impossible. In short, the taciturn pilot of the Shenlong -- better known and henceforth referred to as Nataku -- was an enigma.

Wasn't it just his luck that he loved puzzles?

"Maxwell," came Wufei's calm voice over the top of his book, "what time is it?"

Duo automatically looked to his wrist for an answer before realizing he had yet to get dressed, which meant he also hadn't put his watch on. Without that option open to him, he took to searching Wufei's room for a clock, half wondering with a small amount of annoyance why the other boy didn't just look up from his book and find out what time it was for himself.

The clock was small and smooth, its wood painted a dark ebony that made it seem somehow more ancient than it was. There were no minute marks, only hours, and the lettering inside the thick glass was something foreign and unreadable to him. It was probably a possession Wufei had brought with him from L5 colony. Still, it seemed odd that he would, considering he never spoke of his family, or lack there of as the case may be, and Duo had never taken Wufei for the sentimental kind. But then, he really didn't know all that much about the pilot.

Holding back a sigh, he stared at the clock and then called out, "Just after noon."

"And you aren't dressed yet?" Came the even reply.

"Hey, I just got up!" He shot back defensively.

Of the five pilots sharing this one secluded house Quatre had asked the Maguanacs to scout out for him, (and it was accepted due to the fact that the environment lent to easy concealment of their Gundams) Duo was what Wufei would label as the least disciplined of them all. He adhered to no strict exercise regime, ate anything that was not nailed down, and seemed to have no control over his own mouth. Yet, the Chinese pilot had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Duo more than made up for these personality flaws when in battle. If pressured, Wufei would even go so far as to say that he wouldn't want to be facing down the other end of that scythe.

While he had been up since 6am, practicing both his martial arts and sword fighting forms, Duo had obviously been taking advantage of the fact that he had no mission and no homework. Summer meant that the boarding schools they hid themselves away in were closed. It was why Quatre had asked Rashid to find them some place where they would not be bothered. This, of course, ruled out the Mauganacs base. Quatre felt as if they had endangered and inconvenienced the small town nearby it enough. Wufei, on the other hand, really cared less where they stayed, so long as he had his privacy, Nataku was safely hidden away, and he could be reached when it came time for a mission.

Privacy, he was fast learning however, was not a word in Duo's vocabulary. Unlocked doors meant an invitation to enter, as Wufei had found out last week while changing. Foolishly thinking that no one would enter his room while the door was closed, he hadn't counted on Duo bursting in on him just as his pants rose over his knees. While he had been something close to mortified, and definitely something close to furious, the other boy had taken it all in stride. Wufei's rage had been met with laughter, and it became perfectly clear that Duo would have remained in the doorway had Wufei not threatened him with the blade of his sword shoved into Duo's throat up to the hilt.

The boy had absolutely no modesty.

Lips curving slightly, he savored the memory of the expression on Duo's face when the other boy had realized he was serious.

Duo was still standing there. Wufei could feel the other's eyes on him, awaiting a comment of some kind.

Gaze flickering back to the writing before him, he said mildly, "There are 24 hours in a day, not 12."

Duo snorted. "You're almost as bad as, Heero. Only _he_ drags me out of bed. Why the hell should I get up early if there's no reason to? I value my sleep, thank you very much. Lord knows, I don't get much of it when Dr. G's cramming missions down my throat."

"And you listen to Heero?" Wufei asked, attention still on his book as he disregarded everything else Duo had said.

White teeth flashed briefly. "Not unless I have to. Otherwise, I tell him to go screw himself."

Wufei winced slightly at Duo's choice of words, trying to imagine Heero accepting that kind of insult from _anyone_. But then, Duo seemed to be able to get away with a great deal where the Wing pilot was concerned. It was apparent that Duo was completely oblivious to that fact, however. Wufei had walked in on more than one occasion where the dark haired boy was complaining to Quatre about Heero's lack of response. He was tempted to tell him to spend a little less time talking and a little more time observing to find answers, if only to get him to shut up. But Duo had never asked him for advice, and he considered it really none of his affair what did or did not go on between Heero and Duo.

"Hn." He answered vaguely, trying once again to concentrate on his book.

Duo rolled his eyes. "Great. You sound like Heero. What're you reading there?" He added, venturing closer, Wufei's clock passing from hand to hand in some odd sort of rhythm.

Praying to Nataku for patience, Wufei lowered his book and regarded Duo stonily. Duo had obviously desensitized himself to threatening glares under the tutelage of one Heero Yuy, for he remained unperturbed as he bent over and tried to get a better look at the cover.

With remarkable aplomb, Wufei lifted the book so that Duo could see easily and with the hope that the other boy would leave him alone after having done so.

"Geez Wu, this is in friggin' Chinese! How do you expect me to read that?" He blurted out, rocking back on his heels as he now began tossing the clock.

One hand snaked out and past his guard, snatching the clock in mid-air.

"I don't."

Without the clock to occupy his hands, Duo began swinging them back and forth.

Did the boy _ever_ remain still?

With a half-sigh, Duo gave his braid a reassuring tug. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was worried about the others. They were alone, without back up of any kind, and he hated to think that one of them might not make it back all in one piece. But had he voiced that to Mr. Wufei 'never-shuts-up' Chang, he would be informed in that succinct way the Chinese boy had of stating his absolute opinion, that it was an insult to their abilities to consider them unable to complete their missions without help. So instead, he settled for expending his nervous, pent up energy on distracting Wufei from his book and never standing still for more than a second.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He wasn't supposed to care. Dr. G had sent him down to Earth alone, and alone was how he had expected to stay. But life rarely worked out as it was _supposed_ to, and Duo was generally willing to go where it took him with little complaint. The problem that presented itself from allowing that, was that these four pilots were now his friends. They meant something to him in a way only three other people in his entire life had.

And those three people had died. Two because of his actions, and the third because he was not quick enough to prevent it.

That day, as he knelt in the ruins of the Maxwell Church, Sister Helen's lifeless body clutched in his arms, was the day he had ceased to believe in God. The God of life, at least. For he had wanted desperately to protect the church from those rebels using it as refuge from the Federation, and had braved losing his own life to get them the Mobile Suit they so desperately wanted. But that action had invariably caused the deaths of two of the few people who had ever given a damn about him, and taught him at the same time that no matter what he did death would follow him.

So he would believe in the God of Death. He would become the God of Death. He would accept that it was a part of him, while still living at the same time. He would smile more, live harder, and laugh longer. Life had taken the people he had loved, caused him to bleed, and left him alone, but he refused to fold under. Death had already taken everything from him, it could not have him too. Anger was a much more effective weapon, and with anger, he felt alive. So he got back at death by living, because that was the most effective revenge. And he continued to care, because he had come to realize that emotional death was far worse than physical death.

But a part of him realized as well, that he allowed himself to care for these pilots because they were strong. They had skirted death more than once and came out the victor each time. Especially Heero, who seemed to consider self destruction a sort of hobby.

By becoming death, he also had control. He _was_ death, so what did he have to fear?

Wufei had grown accustomed to Duo's movements, so when they ceased, his attention was again pulled from his book. The American pilot was a nuisance. He was one of the few people that Wufei could not completely ignore and overlook. It seemed that no matter what he did, he was a distraction. Wufei disliked admitting to it, however, because it spoke little for his discipline.

It only made him feel marginally better that even someone as focused as Heero was not completely immune to the braided pilot.

There was just something about Duo that was difficult to ignore. For a boy that claimed to be The God of Death, he was filled with a great deal of life. He tended to throw his energy everywhere he went, as well, and to remain untouched was to be completely without feeling. That such conflicting masks of both light and dark could live within one person told Wufei that Duo was far more complicated than some gave him credit for. One such person being Heero, who had confided to Wufei once (which he suspected was only because he had been around to hear it) that Duo's lack of focus and control were not the traits of a decent Gundam pilot.

While Wufei tended to agree with this, he had long ago suspected that behind Duo's battle chatter and laughter, there lurked a focus and control that would have made even the Perfect Soldier envious. It was simply his way of dealing with it. They had to have ways of dealing with the deaths caused by their hands. Heero met it with resolve, Trowa with silence, and Quatre with gentle strength and regret. Duo embraced it by calling himself Shinigami and laughing in death's face. And he, Wufei... took refuge in his solitude and the very things which caused the one he fought for to call him weak.

But he would not think of that now.

Setting the book in his lap, he rubbed absently at the bridge of his nose, fingers freezing there when he caught Duo's expression. There wasn't a trace of amusement on the normally animated face, and his eyes looked so world weary and wise, that Wufei felt almost guilty for having caught Duo without his mask. It was obvious he wasn't meant to see. The other pilot probably expected him to still be reading his book, his attention centered there because Duo was not talking at him.

What could cause the smile to slip? And why did it mildly disturb him?

Duo swung around suddenly, startling him.

"Hey Wu, I'm starved!"

The smile was firmly back in place, but there was something wild about the eyes that warned Wufei not to speak of what he had just witnessed.

They all had their secrets, their reasons for fighting, and their reasons for staying together. Perhaps they really didn't know each other in the true sense that friends did, but they understood each other, because they were, in some ways, the same. Right now, when it was five against many, they needed that understanding.

But Wufei would say this to no one.

He would cling to his isolation because he needed to remain alone to fight. Together they fought for the colonies, but alone, they fought for their own personal reasons. These reasons were his, and he would share them with no one. He was afraid that by speaking of them, they would cease to be, and everything he used as his foundation would crumble. Perhaps the others realized this too, and it was why they kept it to themselves. Even Quatre had never come right out and said his personal motives for fighting, and he was the most open of them all.

Abruptly shifting trains of thought as easily as he moved, he wondered how the script would play out today. The scene was the same. Duo would come to his room, pester him needlessly for a short time, and then complain about his hunger until Wufei broke down and made him breakfast (or lunch, depending on the hour) just to get him to shut up. It was a familiar routine that had been going on almost since they moved in here together nearly two months before. One that Wufei had actually grown used to and almost looked forward to. Almost. Even he, who could withstand much, could only take a certain dosage of Duo's inane chatter.

The look Duo was giving him now was filled with such pleading, that Wufei was forced to lift the book higher to hide the smile threatening to bloom against his will.

Keeping his expression unconcerned and his tone bored, he replied, "Then go fix yourself something to eat."

Duo had been expecting that answer, but he knew it would only require a minute amount of pestering on his part to get the other to fold. He and Wufei went this route nearly every morning, or afternoon, as the case may be. It was a bit of stability that he admitted to liking. In his life, there hadn't been much that he could count on, but he knew he could depend on Wufei to be his same, solid self. As unmoving as an oak, as closed as a locked safe, and as distant as the clouds stretching across the sky. Half the time, he was certain that the Chinese boy was his favorite person out of the remaining four of them.

For all his acerbity, however, Duo knew that Wufei had a kind streak in him. If Wufei hadn't wanted to cook for him, nothing short of killing him could have moved him from his comfortable spot against the wall, tucked in the corner of his room with a book that only he could decipher. They were all stubborn in their own separate ways, and Duo liked to think he ranked right up there with Heero, but Wufei had them all topped. Duo had seen him stand his ground before until he nearly grew roots. You had to admire a guy that had more tenacity than a leech.

"C'mon, Wu! You know I can't cook. Do you really want me scarring your beautiful pots and pans?"

"They aren't my pots and pans," Wufei corrected, turning the page of his book.

Duo shrugged. "You use them the most, so I figure they're yours. You mean to tell me, you don't have any feelings for them whatsoever? You don't care if they get scratched up and burnt?"

Dark eyes leveled him over the top of the book. "They are inanimate objects, Maxwell."

"Hey," Duo returned, prowling closer, "everything has feelings."

"Absurd." Wufei muttered, running a finger down the characters, lips moving in silent recital.

His stomach growled audibly.

"See that? It's crying out for nourishment."

"So go eat cereal."

Duo wrinkled up his nose in disgust. "Not only does that wheat stuff Quatre buys taste like crap, but it barely fills me up for an hour."

"I am very concerned for you," Wufei replied, turning another page. "This is me being concerned."

Duo resisted the urge to laugh. Wufei had such a dry sense of humor. You almost had to be as insane as Shinigami was to appreciate it.

"Wu, be nice an' cook for me? Please?" He added, the demands of his stomach finally overriding the enjoyment he was getting out of the wordplay.

Wufei stared directly at him. "No."

With a grin and a little wave, Duo suddenly whirled and practically skipped across the room to the door, braid swinging freely behind him.

He called out blithely as he left, "Okay, but don't blame me when the house burns down."

That did it. He could hear the unmistakable slap of a book against the wood of the floor before the door jerked open farther behind him and a displeased looking Wufei joined him in the hall. He was such a safety nut.

"Get showered and dressed while I cook," Wufei ordered, his tone clipped.

Duo grinned. "Thanks, Wu. You're the best."

He received an unintelligible grunt for his response.

PPPPPPPPPPP

Sometime later, after the dishes had been washed, (Duo drying, Wufei washing, as the Chinese pilot was such a perfectionist the American was certain he had to see his face reflected in the glass before it was clean enough) Wufei left the stifling confines of the house and relaxed with his book on the small balcony facing the back yard. If Duo left him alone for any length of time longer than a minute, he might actually be able to get through the remainder of this book.

He had long ago shed his tunic and slippers, opting to walk barefoot and remain in his dark tank top and loose fitting, white pants. It was not ordinarily something he did while indoors, or when not training, but even the intractable Wufei Chang had to bow to the weather.

From behind him, somewhere in the house, there was a sudden blaring of loud music with screaming guitars and a base that hit so hard, it was a wonder the speakers didn't blow and the house didn't crumble beneath their feet. Shaking his head, Wufei turned his attention back to his book, wondering how Duo could consider that music. But he didn't make an issue of it, as he was relatively safe from losing his hearing while sitting out here. That, and he could count on one hand the amount of times Duo had been given the opportunity to play that music. Apparently, Heero was no more fond of it than he was.

Even music such as that had to be taken out and dusted off now and then.

Duo padded silently through the house, resisting the urge to time his movements with the beat of the music. Since he was balancing a glass of lemonade in each hand, both nearly filled to the brim and topped off with shards of ice, he didn't want to spill either. Wufei would never let him hear the end of it if there was a sticky spot on the floor and the Chinese boy somehow happened across it. Which he probably _would_, considering he had radar for this kind of stuff.

Passing through the sliding door that led off the upstairs hall, he smiled at the sight of Wufei sitting cross-legged in a chair, intently reading the same book he had been so engrossed in this morning.

"Hey Wu, got some lemonade for you."

Wufei looked up, placing a dark red ribbon between the pages to mark his place, and reaching one hand out to accept the proffered glass.

"Thank you."

Duo waved the courtesy away, drinking down half his glass in seconds, having to reach up to wipe the back of his hand across his chin before replying, "No problem. Man, sure wish Quatre could have gotten us a place with air conditioning."

"This was the only place with a secure enough area to camouflage our Gundams," he reminded Duo.

Duo made a face, spinning away from Wufei to practically hang himself over the edge of the balcony. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to your precious Nataku."

Biting back a sharp retort along the lines of informing Duo of Deathscythe's importance to _him_, Wufei suddenly found his eyes unwillingly drawn to what the other was wearing. Somewhere between now and the end of breakfast, Duo had shed his usual dark clothing and slipped into a tank top and a pair of spandex shorts that lovingly hugged the curves of his backside. For someone so small, he had unusually long legs. Unusually long, well formed legs.

Mentally giving himself a slap, Wufei's brows slammed together in a look that probably would have sent Duo over the edge of the balcony and scrambling for safety.

Since when had Duo's physical appearance mattered to him? Better yet, when had he begun to _notice_ how pleasing Duo's physical appearance was? Whatever the case, his admiration of it ended here. Duo had made it more than plain, and on more than one occasion, that he cared for Heero. And whether the American knew it or not, Heero felt something in return.

Besides, it was probably just the heat.

"Heero will not be pleased to find you were in his closet."

Spinning around, Duo winked, and Wufei was shocked to find that wink, which he had seen and been on the receiving end of many times before, produce a little thrill in him.

Being cooped up in this house with the braided menace of a pilot was starting to get to him. "Heero'll never know unless _you_ tell him. And you won't do that, will you Wu?"

Wufei ignored that.

"You going to drink that? Or are you afraid I did something to it?"

Glancing down at the glass in his hand with some surprise, Wufei realized he had nearly forgotten about it. It was all Duo's fault.

Forgoing his usual manners, the inside of his mouth suddenly very dry, he tilted his head back and downed the glass in a fashion and with a speed that would have made Duo proud.

Duo stared at him, mouth opened in undisguised shock.

Wufei didn't dignify the stare with a comment.

In all the time that he had known him, Duo had never once seen Wufei act in any way other than proper. His manners even surpassed Quatre's, who was the Winner family heir and a very gracious host to boot. He was tempted to feel Wufei's forehead and ask him if he was feeling all right. Something about the way the other pilot looked, however, warned him that his joking would not be appreciated.

Shrugging the odd display aside, tucking it into the corner of his mind to take out and ponder later, Duo asked, "What're we going to do all day?"

Rising to his feet in one fluid motion, Wufei replied bluntly, "I don't know what _you_ are going to do, but I'm going to read."

Duo groaned. "All day? How can you read all day? What am I supposed to do with myself?"

Wufei grit his teeth. Suddenly, he needed very much to get away from Duo.

"Something constructive," the Chinese pilot bit out, stalking past him and into the house.

Scratching his head, Duo stared after him, wondering what had bitten his fellow Gundam pilot's ass today.

He wanted constructive, did he? Well Duo would show him constructive. And wipe the smirk right from his face while doing it. 


	2. Chapter 2

In the space he had cleared in the dining room, Wufei moved with abounding ease, each precise slash, thrust, and arc having a purpose. It was like an elegant dance, the sword an extention of his arm rather than a separate weapon. His control and skill were so refined, that he never moved out of the invisible circle he had given himself as a boundary. And while he looked as if he was completely absorbed in the exercise, his senses were very in tune with the environment around him.

It was why he knew the instant he was no longer alone.

Rather than interrupt the rhythm of motion he had created either by stopping or speaking, he chose to continue the form. So well did he know it, that his eyes were closed and every movement flowed into the next like a never-ending river. One arm passed under the other as the sword flashed through the air, his legs crossing and pulling pleasantly at the muscles in his calves. His breathing was regulated through sheer will alone, the act of having been exercising for the last hour without break causing him no visible strain. The slight sheen of sweat across the bare portions of skin beneath his tank top was the only noticeable effect.

Watching from the doorway, Duo was oddly silent and subdued, admittedly more than a little awed at the contained strength and effortless grace Wufei presented. Since he was never out of bed even a moment before he had to be, he hadn't been up early enough to see Wufei practice before. For some reason, it presented a side of him that Duo had already known existed, but never actually considered. While aloof and oftentimes abrupt in person, and driven and relentless in his Gundam, a gentle vein ran beneath the hardened mask he presented. It was apparent that Wufei was unaware of just how much this art proved that, or he wouldn't be letting Duo watch him now.

He had known Wufei could move. He had seen him in action before. But this was somehow different. It had a beauty to it that made Duo feel as if he were intruding on a private moment. Especially considering that Wufei was going through the entire pattern with his eyes closed, leaving him open to scrutiny that he could not return. The only time Duo had ever seen Wufei with his eyes closed was when he stole into his room one night to play a prank on him and ended up with the tip of the other boy's sword planted in his throat. That had not been one of his better ideas.

When the exercise ended, Duo found he was disappointed. Surprisingly, it had nothing to do with the fact that he was soon going to have to make good use of these hours he would rather have filled with sleeping. No, it was because he had enjoyed watching Wufei. As a sharp contrast to himself, who was always using up excess energy moving, Wufei rarely moved unless necessary, and even then, he did it with a control that never used more energy than was needed. To see him in constant, continuous motion was a rare thing that was not to be wasted.

"It is rude to lurk in doorways without announcing yourself," Wufei uttered succinctly, sheathing his sword as he lifted his head to pin Duo with his eyes.

Duo grinned in response.

The serious expression never leaving his face, Wufei ventured closer to the other pilot. Drawing his sword again in one swift motion, he settled the tip inches from Duo's throat before the other could even react.

"Who are you and what have you done with Maxwell? Not only are you up before noon, but you stood still for longer than a second."

Duo blinked, trying to decide whether or not Wufei was serious. The blade of that sword was awfully close to his neck... And here he had tried so hard to make certain he was never in this position again.

"You look worried," the Chinese boy asserted, his lips curving barely enough to equal a smile as he slowly pulled the sword away.

Wufei had the damnedest sense of humor.

"In any case, you haven't answered my question," Wufei pointed out, turning from him to lift a white cloth from the table and draw it across his forehead.

Right. Time to unscramble his marbles.

"You said to do something constructive with my time. So here I am."

Wufei was unable to keep the surprise from his expression as he swung back around to regard Duo in stunned silence. The boy had forgone five hours of sleep so that he could exercise with him? That was not the Duo Maxwell he had come to know. But then, he knew he shouldn't be all that shocked. The American pilot was constantly throwing out pieces of himself that seemed to have no relevance to the image he presented. Wufei realized, however, that he did not consider the smiling baka to be the real Duo. It was only one of the many facets that made up his personality. And the need to confound everyone around him at every turn was only one of his many charms.

"You want to practice with me? You don't even know how to use a sword properly," he added in evident dismissal.

He had not expected Duo to take him _this_ seriously. Leave it to the braided menace to be frustratingly selective.

"So teach me! I learn quickly."

Duo had him there. The boy was a quick study, and you generally only had to show him or tell him something once before he picked it up and began working like a professional. That adaptability was part of what made him such an excellent pilot.

His entire manner seemed to suggest he considered this a pleasant way to spend a few hours, and get on Wufei's nerves all in one shot. Admittedly, Duo was far better at annoying Wufei than the latter would ever voice. There was nothing that said Wufei had to make it easy for him this time, however. Duo found himself so amusing. By the time Wufei was done with him here, he would be far from laughter.

The Deathscythe pilot had to admit that the best part about this already was Wufei's loss of composure after having been informed of his reason for being up at the ungodly hour of 7am. It would be well worth whatever hell the Chinese pilot would put him through here. Though Duo really couldn't see how hard it could be to wield a sword. Sure, he wasn't going to have all that much skill yet, but he didn't feel like he needed to compete with Wufei on that score. He would probably only have to swing a hunk of metal around for a few hours to please the other boy. Wufei was patient, but Duo seriously doubted he was patient enough to keep at this until he had taught the him some semblance of grace with the blade.

"Fine, then. Take your pick," the black-haired boy answered after a few moments of contemplative silence, indicating to the display of sheathed swords resting on the table.

Swallowing a yawn, Duo trudged past Wufei and began admiring the extensive collection his friend had cultivated. Some were longer than others, some were curved, and some were straight. While he could plainly see that they were all different in small ways, he didn't have the first clue about deciding which of them was better to suited to him.

Preservation won out over pride. If he was going to be doing this, then he might as well be doing it right.

Flashing Wufei a smile, he said, "Are you sure you want _me_ picking the best one? I mean... they're _your_ swords and I wouldn't want anyth-"

He was abruptly cut off as Wufei strode up to the table, eyes passing over the swords and Duo without having really seemed to do so at all, and promptly shoved one into his hands.

"It is better for beginners."

Duo bristled at the way Wufei said beginners.

"Hey, I bet I'll have moved on to a higher level or whatever the hell you call it with swords in no time at all. This'll be a piece of cake."

He was wrong. On both accounts.

P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P

Three sweat filled, back breaking hours later, they were still going at it. Wufei proved to be a stern taskmaster with a wicked sense of humor that made Duo's want to run and hide. It was painfully (in Duo's case) obvious that despite his fatigue at having been exercising for over four hours now, Wufei was highly enjoying himself. Yet, despite all of the mishandling of the sword and mishaps that went on in the first hour of training, (one such incident nearly rendering Duo braidless) Wufei was a surprisingly patient, effective teacher.

Duo's arms felt like two pieces of limp, overcooked spaghetti noodles. Every movement he made with the sword pulled on what he was certain was every available muscle in his upper body. The last he could remember being this tired was when he got grand total of three hours sleep in two days time. He was convinced that if Wufei kept him working like this his arms were going to fall off altogether. Which, at the moment, wouldn't be an entirely unwelcome event so long as it kept him from having to wave this sword around any longer.

"No, not like that. You are letting your impatience get the better of you," Wufei instructed, cutting through Duo's guard as if it were made of nothing, and tapping the flat of his blade lightly against the other's cheek.

Duo stepped back. "That isn't impatience, Wu, that's fatigue. I'm dying here! You're a slavedriver."

Wufei relaxed his stance. "I'm trying to make these the most constructive three hours you have ever spent."

Allowing his shoulders to droop momentarily from the horrendous posture Wufei insisted he keep while learning (if he heard "quit slouching, Maxwell" one more time he was going to let Shinigami out on a rampage and wouldn't be responsible for the damages), he quipped, "You know Wu, just when I think you're the most boring guy in all the colonies, you let your sense of humor out and it knocks me on my figurative ass."

As if his real ass hadn't taken enough of beating...

Studiously ignoring Duo's comment, Wufei pulled himself up a bit tighter, acknowledging that even he was growing tired. This was beyond what he normally pushed himself, and then some, but the opportunity to put Duo in his place had been simply too good to pass up. As he had expected, Duo showed a natural aptitude for it. He had the lean grace and quick mind necessary to both manipulate the blade and make split-second decisions in the midst of battle. Both were skills that had been honed to near perfection, he knew, from being a Gundam pilot.

To be perfectly honest, he hadn't thought Duo would make it this far. It was clear the boy was holding up now by sheer will and tenacity alone. He lacked the upper body strength that came with many years of training, and though he was by no means weak, it was apparent three hours had made liquid of his muscles. But Duo's perseverance was one of the many things Wufei admired about him, even if it was sometimes an unnecessary by-product of pride. Duo was doing his best to keep up with him and learn something in the process and Wufei respected that by not being lenient. No matter what Duo may say, Wufei knew it wouldn't have been appreciated.

Duo had a whole new respect for Wufei. Not that he hadn't had one before, but it had become increasingly clear over the last three hours that Wufei was stronger than he had given him credit for. And he wasn't just talking about physical strength.

It took a great deal of mental control to effectively use a sword, and far more skill than it did to just pick up a gun and start firing. He had come to the conclusion that Wufei was the embodiment of reserve. Not just anyone could spend three hours sweating and putting up with him, and still look so composed. It also occurred to him that Wufei had to like him just a little bit. The black-haired pilot couldn't possibly be putting himself through this only to teach him a lesson.

"Quit slouching, Maxwell."

Then again...

Letting a long suffering sigh escape, he asked, "Aren't we done yet?"

"You wanted to do this," Wufei reminded him. "Now, move into position."

"Blah, that sounds like assume the position. Gonna strip search me, Wu?" Duo teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Duo was more than a little stunned when color rode high in Wufei's cheeks, leaving the other boy's eyes snapping a sharp, hot black.

"Your manners leave some to be desired!" He retorted scathingly.

It was actually possible to embarrass Mr. Wufei 'made of stone' Chang?

Feeling more than just a bite being taken out of him at Wufei's tone, Duo fell back on his heels, a small part of him wondering if the thought of seeing him without his clothing was that detestable. But why did he even care? After all, the one he was most interested in seeing him without his clothes seemed to think he rated right up there with dust; somewhere below missions, Gundams, and laptop computers. Though... he hadn't thought of the Wing Gundam pilot overly much in the last day or so.

A distinct pall had been thrown over the entire proceeding, and Duo was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. He hadn't meant it any way other than a joke, but Wufei had taken such offense to it. Having Wufei use that tone on you, and lecture you about your manners was actually serious business. It was probably as close as the Nataku pilot got to saying 'fuck you'.

Usually, when Duo teased him, the most he got out of Wufei was an unamused stare and a dismissal of some sort, whether it be verbal or otherwise. To have Wufei get so upset over this one comment told him he had stepped over the invisible boundaries of friendship. For the most part, Duo plowed right through boundaries. But for some reason not quite clear to him, Wufei's reaction had hurt him. He had the overwhelming urge to be alone right now, so he could lick his wounds in private.

Smiling brightly, the act feeling as if it had been painted on, he said, "Hey, sorry man! I was just teasing. Guess I was a bit out of line."

Wufei stood stock still, an odd sort of pressure pushing at his chest from the inside out. He hadn't meant to react so severely. It was just that Duo's careless words had brought his newfound awareness of the Deathscythe pilot back in a violent rush. It was both confusing and unwelcome, because Wufei had already linked Duo with Heero in his mind, whether the two were actually together or not, and he had strong suspicions that this attraction of his was one sided. Besides, there was nothing productive about forming relationships between each other when they needed to be concentrating on what they were here for...

Why was that realization only half-hearted?

Grip tightening around the hilt of his sword, Wufei tried to push the image of fleeting hurt that had crossed Duo's face from his mind. He hadn't meant to cause the other pain. He had only been protecting himself, protecting Duo. After all, the American pilot hadn't meant it as anything more than a joke, Wufei was sure. The last thing Duo needed to know was that Wufei had, for one mind numbing second, taken that entire statement perfectly seriously.

"We are finished here," he said harshly, sounding like a bastard even to his own ears.

He needed to escape. He needed to flee to his room and his books, where he could remember why it was necessary to remain alone. It was the safer, cowardly route. But it needed to be that way.

Without waiting for an answer, he gathered up his weaponry, minus the sword Duo held, and left the other standing in silence, watching his retreating back with growing hurt and confusion.

"Was what I said so bad?" Duo asked of the air in a whisper that lacked all his usual color.

Letting his chin drop to his chest, he realized that he was still holding Wufei's sword. Absently, he ran his fingers along the blade, noting with an odd sort of detachment that it looked so new, while the handle looked so ancient. Wufei took good care of his swords. Wufei took good care of everything that belonged to him. Cobalt blue eyes widened slightly when that insight produced a wistful tug in him, a strange sort of longing... Since when had he even thought of Wufei in that manner? Heero... Hadn't he meant to think of Heero?

Duo was jerked rather violently from his tangled thoughts when he felt a sharp prick in his finger. Glancing down, he noted that he had reached the end of the sword. True to his penchant for never doing things half-way, Wufei had even sharpened this sword to the point of perfection. Whether it was accidental, or symbolic, this was just what Duo needed to clear his mind.

Slipping his bloodied finger between his lips, he grimaced at the bitter taste of copper as he soothed the sharp ache with his tongue. If only it were that simple to ease the ache created by Wufei's words...

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

Wufei attacked the vegetables on the cutting board with a kitchen knife, wishing the act of violence would soothe the ragged edge of his nerves. Since that incident earlier this morning, Duo and he had been avoiding each other. They were doing remarkably well for it being such a small house. Now that evening had come, however, Wufei knew they both had to sacrifice their discomfort and eat. It would be ridiculous to starve.

He just wished he knew what to say to Duo. Somewhere over the course of the day, he had decided he owed the other pilot an apology. Duo had been innocently joking, and he had taken him far too seriously. He was worried that it would be too revealing. He didn't want Duo thinking that he was attracted to him, when the boy obviously cared for Heero. It would be more than a little mortifying. Never mind the fact that it was the truth.

"The vegetables were innocent. I was the one that made an ass out of myself."

Wufei spun around, knife in hand, adrenaline and instinct carrying him the first few seconds before his brain registered that it was only Duo. He was disgusted with himself for having been so lost in thought that the American boy had gotten past his guard, especially considering it had been him filling his thoughts and then appearing as if having been called. Because of it, he only stared for a few moments, wishing with every fiber of his being that he had not done so when he looked his fill.

Hot weather and Duo didn't seem to get along very well. So it was no surprise to find him taking cold showers during the day in an attempt to cool himself off. Wufei wished that today had not been one of those days. Duo carried with him the scent of vanilla and his hair, damp still, was hanging unbound, so that it fell down his back in a massive curtain of many dark hues.

Wufei couldn't grasp the significance of this. Duo never went around with his hair undone in front of any of them.

When they had first met, Wufei had scoffed at the idea of a pilot, a warrior having so much hair. It had to be a nuisance in battle, and was probably nothing more than a vanity. But as he had gotten to know Duo, he learned by observance that the braid carried some secret importance to him.

They all had their things that gave them ties to something, anchors to reality. Duo just happened to wear his closer to his heart, in the form of his cross necklace and braid. Wufei had his books, Quatre those ridiculously huge goggles Rashid had given him, Trowa the half-mask that Wufei had seen lying on his bed while passing the room he shared with Quatre one day, and Heero, Wufei was certain, actually felt some tie to that laptop of his.

"Hey Wu, you gonna put the knife down?"

Wufei blinked, and slowly lowered the knife he hadn't realized was still raised.

While he was beyond nervous, it didn't show. Duo Maxwell had gotten very good at cultivating a cheerful, unconcerned mask. Inside, however, his stomach was a mess of knots. He still didn't know where he stood with Wufei, and it didn't help that they had been staying out of each other's way all day. That, combined with the fact that he never let anyone see him with his hair down was waging hell on his health. He tried to console himself with the fact that it couldn't be helped, but it wasn't working out too well.

The exercise Wufei had put him through earlier had left him beyond sore, so that even the act of lifting his arms above his head hurt. Now, he knew he had more than the average boy's upper body strength because you had to have some if you were going to be in control of a Gundam, but the kind of fine control that sword fighting demanded, and the power, was more than even he could handle. Especially considering he didn't work out daily the way Wufei did.

What he needed was just a day or so without any strenuous activities for the ache to pass. In the meantime, however, he couldn't even braid his hair properly. He had tried five times already, before the choice words leaving his mouth told him he needed to seek help. The only problem there was, Wufei happened to be the only other person in the house.

Unaware that he was doing it, Duo reached down to twist the fabric of his pants, betraying his inner turmoil. Wufei, whose eyes missed little, caught the telltale action, and found the strength in it to do what he needed to.

"I apologize," he said without preamble, his tone and posture stiff.

Duo blinked. "What?" fell out.

Wufei's jaw flexed. "I don't believe you need me to repeat it."

Duo bit back the urge to smile, knowing it would only succeed in pissing Wufei off. But the tightness in him lessened at Wufei's words, understanding that Wufei only said what he meant, and that apologizing was not something he did often or easily. But that didn't mean he would make it too easy. Wufei had hurt him... and one apology wouldn't erase that.

"For beating up on the vegetables, you mean? I'm sure they appreciate that, but it can't bring them back now."

Dark eyes narrowed slightly.

Duo wasn't disappointed. He had always known Wufei had a sharp mind.

"I had no right to abuse them in such a way. They didn't mean anything by their actions."

"Lying on the cutting board?" Duo couldn't help but interject, his lips twitching.

"Yes."

Was that the beginnings of a smile he saw on the Chinese boy's face?

"I'm sure they forgive you. They tend to do things without thinking."

"That is because they don't have brains," Wufei responded blankly.

Yes, that was the beginnings of a smile all right. The clever boy and his damned dry humor.

Duo moved further into the kitchen. "Can they help it if they were born with all beauty and no brains?"

The Nataku pilot snorted.

"I take it you don't agree?" Duo pursued, effecting a guileless expression.

Wufei stilled then, eyeing the 'vegetables' seriously.

After a few short, tense moments, he replied, "No. I agree."

As the Chinese boy swung away, Duo would have choked on something had he had anything to choke on. So he took to trying to fill his starving lungs with as much air as he could while his mind raced, trying to understand what exactly Wufei had just said.

"Hey Wu... did you just say I was beautiful, but stupid?" Duo managed to push past his suddenly dry lips, dropping all pretenses of their wordplay.

Wufei's shoulders raised, and his grip on the knife tightened. What was he doing? Telling Duo the truth. And there was a note in the American boy's voice, a pleading that begged Wufei to be kind.

"No. I said you were beautiful."

He might have been talking about a rock, for all the emotion there was in his voice. But something like hope blossomed inside Duo. He wasn't certain where it was going, but he wanted to find out.

"Thank you."

No answer. More vegetables lost their lives to the cause.

Duo gathered up his courage.

"Wu? Would you do me a favor?"

Wufei half-turned, knife in hand.

"I... I'm ashamed to admit my arms and back hurt like hell from all that exercise. Would you... braid my hair?"

Wufei's expression didn't change, but his heart leapt and twisted inside of him. Duo was offering him a chance to touch his hair, a chance to find out if it was as soft as he had imagined last night while trying vainly to sleep past the unwanted thoughts whirling in his mind.

For the first time since Duo entered the kitchen, Wufei looked directly at him. And was pulled into the endless blue of his eyes.

How weak he was...

"If you need me to."

Relief and excitement. "Thanks. Having all this hair is a bitch when it's not pulled back."

"Then why have it?" It was out before Wufei could stop himself.

Duo's smile suddenly became bittersweet, and instead of answering, he indicated to the knife. "You aren't coming near me until you put that knife down."

Wufei's lips curved slightly, and he set the knife aside, not knowing whether to be relieved that Duo had neatly side-stepped his question, or disappointed.

"Sit in a chair in the dining room."

"Dinner going to be okay?" Duo asked over his shoulder as he led the way.

"It is in the oven," was all the reply he got.

Duo quickly flipped a chair around, straddling it so that he could rest his arms and chin against the back, while giving Wufei easy access to his hair.

Wufei settled into his own chair, sternly telling himself that he was going to be very business-like about this whole thing. There would be no lingering. Duo would get the wrong impression. But then, wasn't that what he wanted? There was something stirring between them. He could feel it just along the edges. Both of them, it seemed, were too afraid to attack it head on. Which was just as well, he considered, as Heero and the others would be back shortly.

Combing his fingers through Duo's hair, he began separating sections of it, trying not to notice how cool and soft it felt against his skin. Being this close to him left Wufei smelling nothing but the vanilla conditioner the American pilot used. That would haunt him in his dreams tonight, he knew.

Closing his eyes against the pleasant tingles having Wufei's hands in his hair caused, Duo held back a sigh. This was happening too fast. Before he knew it, Wufei was going to be done, and he wasn't going to get to savor the feeling of his touch. For someone who became a fairly frightening opponent when he got inside Nataku's cockpit, Wufei could be incredibly gentle.

"There," Wufei said matter-of-fact, rising to his feet and immediately pulling the chair back to slide it into its place.

He was right. Too fast.

"Hey Wu, do I smell something burning?"

"Shit!" And he took for the kitchen at a flat run.

Grinning, Duo reflected on the fact that it would be worth Wufei's ire when he realized there was nothing burning, just to have gotten to hear him curse. 


	3. Chapter 3

Duo bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, sliding from one to the other with a recklessness that should have taken him to the floor. His thumbs were hooked casually in the back of his black pants, elbows jutting out behind him like twin ornaments. Impish features were even brighter than usual, and there was a mischievous light lurking in the blue depths of his eyes that Wufei didn't like. While Duo's actions may appear to be random, Wufei, who noticed everything, analyzed, and then tucked it away for future use, knew perfectly well they were not. Shinigami never did anything without reason.

He wasn't entirely certain he wanted to find out what this particular reason was.

The cheerful mask was firmly back in place, as was the priestly attire he usually wore. Duo had again asked Wufei to braid his hair after his afternoon shower, and the latter had obliged, working with a brisk proficiency that had gotten the task over and done with as soon as possible. Whatever had passed between them yesterday, good or bad, seemed not to have happened at all. He didn't know whether to be pleased, relieved, annoyed, or disappointed. Given the choice, he would go for the fifth, unavailable one. Uncaring.

The American pilot tugged at his collar, running his finger along the inside edge.

Finding his eyes unwillingly drawn there, he was struck by the irony of a boy claiming to be the God of Death wearing clothing that symbolized everything that meant life in the Christian religion. He hadn't asked, and Duo had never offered, so Wufei wasn't certain where the clothing had come from. He would have said stolen, but something about the way Duo refused to wear much else other than that told him it was not that. It could be any number of things. A reminder. A shield. A comfort. Just another piece that made up the puzzle calling himself Duo Maxwell.

Absently rubbing his damp palms against his hips, Duo wished for what felt like the thousandth time that Quatre had gotten air conditioning. The guy practically had his own colony, and he couldn't even get air conditioning! Not that Mr. Chang looked even the slightest bit rumpled, overheated, or flustered by that, he noted with more than his fair share of irritation. Someone of his discipline was impervious to the weather. Hell, the weathers probably took one look at Wufei, conversed with one another, and decided it would be wise to leave him alone. And not only that, but with that stick-straight, black hair, held down by only gravity and water, Wufei didn't need to worry about frizzies and fly-aways.

Damn him anyway.

Damn him thrice, for pretending that yesterday hadn't even happened. Duo should have known better than to expect anything from him, and he sure as hell wasn't making the first move. He was going to smile, fairly ooze congeniality, get in Wufei's way every chance he could, but he was _not_ going to give the Chinese boy even one inch to work with. If Wufei wanted to pull a Mr. Heero 'the rock' Yuy, and ignore his existence except when it was useful, then Wufei Chang could kiss Duo's black clad ass. No, wait, that was very bad imagery that didn't quite pan out to the insult he had intended for it to be.

I have very bad taste in men, he lamented to himself, holding in a sigh. I always pick Mr. Sociable. Maybe I should start liking women...

Besides, wasn't he supposed to like Heero? He had been trying to chip away at the Perfect Soldier's stone defenses, complete with 'the death glare' and superhuman strength for what felt like forever now. His progress, it seemed, was minimal. So minimal that he didn't even know why he hadn't given up yet. It was apparent Heero lived for the mission, and the mission lived to have Heero. If the guy cared for anything outside of that, it was that damned laptop computer he was practically joined at the hip with. Heero hadn't even once shown interest, or even looked at him or touched him in any way that lent itself otherwise. Heero hadn't said he was beautiful. Not like Wufei.

This was beyond frustrating.

He wanted to know if Wufei was even remotely interested in him. He wanted to know if Wufei's comment on his appearance was just a truth, with no emotion behind it. He wanted to know if he was a complete idiot for even thinking this way. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it. Because if he pushed Wufei, then Wufei would retreat further into himself and Duo would get even less of him. He had seen the Chinese boy do it before. So then what? Leave it at a stalemate? Go back to pretending that everything was as it used to be when he was starting to notice little things about Wufei that he hadn't before?

Not likely. It wasn't happening.

Wufei lowered his eyes to his book (the book that got more attention than Duo did, the American pilot noted as the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head), missing the sudden near violent glitter enter Duo's eyes. The characters on the page blurred together, forming no real words, as the Chinese pilot continued to be aware that Duo was staring at him. If he thought the boy a nuisance before, then he was an outright obstacle now. He stood between Wufei and complete, blissful, silent peace. Even when he wasn't in the same room, he was still there, occupying his thoughts despite all attempts to produce the opposite result.

Why couldn't the others have left behind someone else? Someone like Heero, who would have gladly left him alone? Why this braided menace who insisted upon making him question his discipline, his notions on love and relationships, and worst of all, his feelings? And why now, of all the time that they had been together fighting for the same cause, did he just begin to notice?

The silent stand off was over. Neither side had won, and it was time to regroup and bring in reinforcements. The Chinese camp had retreated into their insulated little world, and it was up to the American camp to draw them back out again.

Pressing his palms against his hips so that his arms veered out in a distinctly bird-like fashion, he remarked offhand, "I know you can do it, Wu!"

"Do what?" The other replied, not bothering to look up. He was perfectly aware of who was standing before him. It was his hope that if he didn't look, said person would go away.

"Spend one whole day being a perfectly normal, 15 year old boy."

That statement was so ridiculous, Wufei had to lift his head and pin Duo with a withering glance.

"We aren't exactly what one would call 'normal', Maxwell, lest you forget," he answered curtly.

Keeping the smile in place, though it was becoming considerably strained, Duo resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Thank you, oh-enlightening-one. I couldn't have figured that out without your help."

Ignoring the obvious sarcasm, Wufei continued to stare at him without changing expressions, much less blinking.

What was it again, that he liked about this guy? He was considering developing selective amnesia...

"What I mean, Wu, is that we spend one day without being Gundam pilots. No hugeass Gundams, no kooky professors, and no blowing shit all to hell. I'm me, you're you, and we're just a couple of 15 year olds kids with nothing better to do than-"

"Does this have a point?" Wufei interrupted.

"I was getting to it! Don't be so utilitarian! If words weren't meant to be used, then they never would've been invented."

"Words," Wufei returned mildly, "were developed because people failed to understand each other's body language and couldn't appreciate the beauty of silence."

Speaking of completely missing the body language boat...

"No, they were created by people who appreciated the value of communication!" Duo shot back, looking affronted.

Something childish stirred in Wufei.

"No," he corrected with more force this time, "they were created by people who take up more than their fair share of air by talking too much."

Duo rocked back on his heels. "Are you insinuating I talk too much?"

"No. I am _saying_ you talk too much."

Duo did the only thing he could do in defense; he stuck his tongue out at Wufei.

The Chinese pilot's expression remained impassive.

"I fail to see how that contributed to your argument."

"It made me feel better, that's how," he informed Wufei, his tone deliberately petulant as he folded his arms across his chest.

He was losing him now. Wufei's interest was being pulled back to that damnable book of Chinese that Duo was considering burning after Wufei drifted off to sleep tonight. If he hadn't wanted to live to see 16, he might have done just that. Still, he couldn't complain overly much. He had been very close to getting Wufei to drop that formal shield he wore like a protective second skin.

But almost wasn't good enough.

"If one intends to win an argument, logic and reason go a lot farther to convince than sticking one's tongue out," Wufei began, preparing, Duo was certain, to launch into a lecture that made counting beans sound appealing.

Slashing his hand through the air, Duo cut him off. "Screw logic and reason. I swear, Wu, sometimes you're more of a professor than Dr. G!"

"While I appreciate your above average intelligence," he continued before Wufei could respond, "it won't be needed today. Because you see, we're going shopping."

Wufei went from dealing with the warmth Duo's offhand compliment created to confronting shock all in one turn.

"Shopping?" He parroted.

"Yes," Duo replied, feeling inordinately pleased at having managed to throw the Chinese boy off guard, "you know, that thing where you go from shop to shop, spending all your money and-"

"I know what shopping is!" Wufei snapped.

Duo's brows rose. "Yeesh, don't bite my head off or anything, Wu."

Wufei slammed his book shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

"Sorry," he said. Then before Duo could react to that, added, "I am not going shopping with you, Maxwell."

"If you don't, I'll make you read to me," Duo threatened, receiving only a partially raised eyebrow for an answer.

Wufei was determined that Duo wasn't going to change his mind. He detested shopping. It always took longer that it should, and you always ended up coming home with more than you had intended to get. Something told him that with the American, the amount would be more than doubled. Besides all that, it was too normal, too simple, and too personal. He didn't want to bond with Duo. He wanted him to go away and leave him alone.

Duo had no intentions of leaving Wufei alone. He wanted to go shopping, and he wasn't leaving this house without two things. His hat, and Wufei. The sooner the Chinese boy realized this, the better. If he had to pester him half the day to get him to go, then so be it. Bothering Wufei was fun anyhow. Though, admittedly, it would be much more fun if he would react beyond staring and unfailingly stingy, polite statements. Right. Polite and Wufei in the same sentence just didn't work very well. It was more like bald civility. Unless he was insulting him, of course. Which Wufei seemed to have taken more of a liking to as of late.

"I swear Wu, you _are_ going shopping with me, if I have to bug you all day."

"That's nice," Wufei replied absently, opening his book again.

Duo bit back a groan, frantically searching his mind for _something_ that would force Wufei to go with him.

As he found it, a sly, wicked smile curved his lips the likes of which would have made Shinigami proud.

"Hey Wu, if you don't go with me... I'll just have find some other way of passing time. I was thinking," he continued, examining a nail, "that I might service Deathscythe. Since he's in top shape, that won't take long. I'll just go ahead and work on Nataku for you when I'm done."

Duo was still looking at his nail when the explosive sound of book hitting wood filled his ears. He wisely swallowed a smile.

"Are you ready?" Wufei demanded right next to Duo's ear, causing the latter to jump slightly.

When he had recovered his wits, he nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Then let us get this over with," Wufei snarled, forcefully closing his hand around Duo's upper arm and pulling him across the floor.

"Hey, Wu, I bruise easily!"

An unsympathetic grunt was all he received in reply.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

Duo shifted his arms gingerly, understandably, against the feeling of metal pressing against his skin, even if it was through a coat. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to not press his face against Wufei's back and relax completely. The Chinese pilot was so tense right now, it was amazing he could even turn the bike around corners without driving them into the ground. He somehow doubted that getting any closer to Wufei than was necessary would be appreciated. And despite the fact that he was a little leery with just trusting Wufei's word that he could manipulate this motorcycle perfectly (as this was the guy that had threatened to kill him if they overspent, thank-you-very-much Mr. Heero Junior), he had to admit to enjoying the proximity that _was_ allowable.

It was not like he could buy a whole lot when Wufei had insisted they take this motorcycle anyhow. He had tried to point out the value of taking the truck the Maguanacs had left, as it had plenty of space for packages in the back, but Wufei had refused. Duo had the sneaking suspicion that Wufei was trying to ruin his fun. Or Wufei was just not a very astute shopper, Duo decided with a grin. After all, some of the most expensive things were the smallest things. Not that he intended to push the Nataku pilot's patience. He had to consider himself lucky to have gotten him this far.

Wufei's overcoat flapped against his leg again, and Duo shook his head, wondering if it was really worth roasting to be armed. He hardly considered a trip to the mall as being dangerous enough to warrant a sword. Personally, he thought Wufei was being paranoid. But then, you didn't argue with Wufei Chang when he was holding said weapon in his hands. Especially not when he was threatening you at the same time. It was a wiser course of action just to nod and look agreeable.

Duo considered himself more than apt at both defending and fighting back, but he was not fool enough to think that he could stand up to Wufei and expect to get away without a few broken bones. The Chinese boy had been training for God-only-knew how long, probably almost his entire life, in two of the most deadly arts. The only place he might have had a chance, was in his Gundam, and that was said without any real arrogance. Duo knew that he was good. Doctor G wouldn't have chosen him otherwise, whatever wisecracks the scientist might make aside.

Easing back on the throttle, Wufei took them around a curve, trying not to be aware of the fact that each time they did, Duo was pressed more firmly against him. This was torture of the most exquisite kind, and he had only himself to blame for it. After all, in order to keep Duo from buying out half the mall, he had insisted they take his motorcycle. It only occurred to him as he started it up and Duo settled behind him, that he had failed to consider all aspects of his decision. By then, it was too late to back out. So he salvaged his pride and suffered with teasing his libido instead.

This was not the way to go about ignoring the effects the Deathscythe pilot had on him. Not with Duo's arms wrapped tightly around his waist and little to no space between their bodies. Surely, this was a joke played by some higher power to amuse itself. Would it have been so difficult to have allowed him to see the entire scope of the situation? He was being sensible and wise about this whole thing, and he found himself confounded at every turn. Duo, it seemed, was determined to spend nearly every waking moment in his company. Wufei really couldn't see why when he was doing everything he could to discourage him...

He was having a hard time denying to himself that the thought of spending an entire day in Duo's company while pretending to be nothing more than normal teenagers was not appealing. It had been a long time since Wufei could remember doing anything of the sort, if ever. There were moments when it seemed as if they had been in this war forever, and as if the war itself had no end. Any supposed normal, sane moments were few and far between. Because even when they had a free moment, being anything other than a Gundam pilot was difficult. Except, when you were with Duo.

Unlike the rest of them, Duo shed Shinigami when he left Deathscythe's cockpit. Seeing him at any other time was a rarity that meant something had managed to get past Duo's amiable exterior and anger him. While he saw Heero and Trowa as the 'steel backbone' of the five of them as a team, he considered Quatre the heart and Duo the morale. That left him where he preferred to be; alone and there only if they needed him to be. Which, admittedly, had become much more frequent. It seemed that the thought of unity was even starting to get to him.

The backroads melted away, leaving behind dust and isolation for asphalt and population. Wufei maneuvered his way through traffic with ease and authority, essentially the way he did everything. While he concentrated on that, Duo found his mind wandering to inane things with no actual relevance. Such as what would happen if a big bug splatted right over the shield of Wufei's helmet, or what would happen if that car to their left moved over just the slightest bit more. He began humming under his breath as well while they waited at a stoplight, the sound of it drowned out by the whir of the motors around them. Which was just as well, considering Wufei probably would have yelled at him for making noise.

Flexing his fingers absently against Wufei's abdomen, he found himself staring at the black silk of his tail peeking out just beneath the edge of the helmet. Duo had never seen him with it down, and he couldn't help but wonder just how long Wufei's hair _was_, or if it was as smooth to the touch as it looked. What was the significance of it? Wufei struck him as a warrior who valued efficiency and precision. Having long hair didn't jive with that image. Yet, there were times that Duo glimpsed something else beneath Wufei's mask. Another Wufei, one that he rarely let others see, much less himself. So what had Wufei been before he became a Gundam pilot? And how to go about finding out...

Muscles tense beneath Duo's constantly moving fingers, Wufei pulled them into the mall parking lot, wishing that he could blast them into a spot and get off the motorcycle. He didn't like the heat those fingers were creating. It was an unwelcome distraction, one that was going to land them both on their heads if Duo didn't quit it. He wanted to tell him to stop, but that would mean admitting to the effect they had on him. Once again, pride came before libido. Surely, he deserved an award for his resolve...

Almost before the kickstand had touched down, Duo vaulted from the bike and was removing his helmet, his braid swinging around him like a long, chocolate rope of silk. Wufei found his eyes drawn there against his will, remembering how the other looked with his hair unbound.

"Man, am I glad to have that stuffy helmet off. It's worse than the one Dr. G forced me to wear on my way down to Earth," Duo remarked, almost seeming to be speaking to air, as he spun around, the offending helmet tucked beneath his arm.

Sometimes Wufei forget they all had separate lives before Operation Meteor got underway. It almost seemed as if they had become one collective family, these four pilots and he... A family he didn't need.

"Yo, Wu, get the helmet off and let's go already! I'm starved. We didn't eat lunch, remember?"

Duo bent over at the waist, passing his hand in front of Wufei's face, completely oblivious to the attention he was garnishing. Who wouldn't want to look at him? He was a beautiful bundle of energy and hair. He drew the eyes of male and female alike, and Wufei was not liking at all this sudden feeling of jealousy that sprung up. Unreasonably, he wanted to throw himself in front of Duo and demand that no one look at him.

"Absurd," he muttered crossly, removing his helmet to glare at Duo.

Duo pulled back. "Do motorcycle rides always make you so pleasant?"

Ignoring the comment, Wufei pocketed the key to his bike and leapt gracefully down, his feet making no sound as they touched the pavement. Without waiting, he began walking, leaving Duo with no choice but to follow, wondering why it was Wufei kept glaring at random strangers... 


	4. Chapter 4

You're going to eat that?" Duo questioned, eyeing the steaming bowl of chow mein noodles sitting in front of Wufei dubiously.

One black eyebrow rose elegantly. "You're going to eat that?"

He leaned back. "At least mine doesn't look like-"

"Don't even say it, Maxwell."

"Fine, fine. You eat yours. I'll eat mine. We'll both be happy. The end."

Biting back exasperation and sigh in equal proportions, Wufei recalled with startling clarity the reason why he avoided Duo. The boy got on his nerves like nothing else, and proceeded to dance on them until Wufei either got away from him or snapped at him. Perhaps he could lose him in the mall and make his way back out to the motorcycle before Duo noticed...

The plan sounded very tempting.

While Duo looked right at home in the overcrowded food court, filled in equal parts with people and food, Wufei felt out of his element. He hated this much noise. It was difficult to even think over the din. Not to mention, he disliked being around this many people. Not even someone as skilled as he was at observation could keep an eye on all of them at once. How was he supposed to even _enjoy_ his food?

"Relax, Wu. You look way too uptight."

"How can I relax with all this noise?" The Chinese pilot retorted.

Duo shrugged, picking up his enormous, greasy hamburger and biting into it. Ketchup dripped from the edge of the bun, landing in a bright crimson puddle on the tabletop. Before Duo could even react to that, let alone set his hamburger down, Wufei had plucked a napkin from the dispenser and wiped it up.

Rolling his eyes, Duo swallowed and quipped, "Wufei the Gundam pilot, Wufei the cook, and now Wufei the janitor? What _don't_ you do?"

"Watch your mouth!" Wufei hissed, eyes darting around him.

The American sighed, drawing the sound out much longer than was necessary. "Hey, Mr. Paranoid, _no one_ heard. So relax, and eat your disgusting noodles."

Fingers twitched convulsively as Wufei ordered them to remain where they were and not wrap themselves around Duo's neck.

The other pilot threw him an audacious grin before attacking his food; or perhaps _inhaling_ was the better word for it.

In fascinated disgust, he watched as Duo took another bite, shoved three fries into his mouth, and washed the whole revolting mix down with chocolate shake.

"You are killing yourself slowly," he remarked with barely disguised distaste.

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not trying to grow a garden in my stomach. Besides, this actually tastes good."

Folding his arms across his chest (Wufei, the immovable wall), he stared down his nose at the boy sitting across the table from him. "Do you even _know_ what chow mein tastes like?"

A hand stopped in mid-air, filled with fries and halfway to reaching the garbage disposal he called a mouth.

"Well..." he hesitated, admitting reluctantly, "no."

This was a revelation. Duo Maxwell had actually dismissed food without having first tried it.

"Here." Wufei said, ever a man of many words, and dipped his chopsticks into the bowl to come up with a healthy portion.

"How do you do that? It looks so hard. I tried it once, and my food ended up in my lap. It burned like hell and I had to take my pants off right there and-"

"Shut up and open your mouth," Wufei interrupted tightly, the skin around his own mouth pinched and white.

Duo blinked. _Now_ what was bugging him?

"You know, coming from anyone else, that would have been a blatant come on," Duo mused, expression innocent enough.

Clenching his teeth, Wufei jammed the offered bite into Duo's mouth, missing because the sticks slammed against Duo's lips in his haste to get the Deathscythe pilot to be quiet. The noodles plunged from their perch, hitting Duo's lap with a decidedly sickening slap. Cobalt blue eyes widened both in surprise and pain, as he scrambled for a napkin to clean the mess up, his lips throbbing from the impact of the sticks.

Dropping the damp wad onto the table, Duo gingerly probed his swollen lips, eyeing Wufei with a half-frown. "If I didn't know better, Wu, I'd think you were trying to get me to take my pants off."

That statement brought a vivid image to Wufei's mind the Chinese pilot did not need. An interesting expletive exploding from his lips, he ducked his head to hide the flush spreading across his cheeks, and attacked his noodles with a vicious ferocity. Why did he go anywhere with Duo? Better yet, why did he even put up with Duo?

Drinking his milkshake, Duo picked at his mind, trying to figure out why Wufei was acting so out of character all of the sudden. A few innocent remarks and... A bright grin suddenly burst forth despite the pain it caused. He sat back smugly, eyeing the Chinese pilot through the slits in his bangs. So Mr. Wufei Chang had a perverted bone in his body after all. Duo would have to be certain to make good use of this knowledge. Since he couldn't get the boy to commit to any feelings, he could at least make him suffer.

Struggling for control over his own body, Wufei continued eating his noodles mechanically, needing them more as a distraction than nourishment. One boy, one ridiculously annoying boy broke through his discipline as it were made of nothing. Wufei had been completely unaware of just how close he had let Duo get over the months that they had known one another. It was almost getting to the point where he tolerated his company without bodily removing him from the room, and it certainly had gotten to the point where he noticed him even when he wasn't.

Was it just Duo? He had never paid the slightest attention to the same sex, or the opposite sex for that matter, in this way before. No one had ever stirred such carnal needs in him. Yes, and because they were just that, carnal needs, he needed to forget and ignore them. They weren't important.

Try telling that to his body, however...

"Hey, Wu, are you going to let me try those noodles or what?"

Duo ducked as a wad of soiled napkins sailed toward his head.

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Had anyone asked Duo if he considered what he did wrong, he would have told them he didn't look at it in terms of right and wrong. That was black and white, and the world itself was a violent slash of colors that threw you off balance and battered at you from every side. He did what he did because he believed that in the end, they could achieve freedom for the colonies. Someone had to do something. Talking wasn't producing results, and he was as tired as anyone else of living in the colonies under the control of first the Alliance and now OZ. While he disliked having the right to take lives, he did it because it was a necessary step in reaching freedom.

He fought _so_ that someone else could do the talking.

It wasn't that his smiles and his laughter meant he was a hardened bastard who didn't care. It meant that he worked like hell to keep it from getting to him. This was his talent. It was what he was good at, and so he would let Doctor G use him. Better him than someone else. Better him than some inept soldier, or talentless kid. The thought of anyone else getting a hold of Deathscythe was not a welcome one. It produced decidedly homicidal tendencies in him.

Being a Gundam pilot took him wherever orders sent him, put him in danger of losing his life on a regular basis, and took a lot out of him, both physically and mentally. But Duo had never had what he could call a stable life, so he persevered when others might not have. He had developed a tough outer skin long ago, one that wore the smiles while he held himself together inside. He had learned that nothing was certain, people were fragile, and that you had to count on yourself before anyone else.

Joining up with these other four pilots had changed his perspective on a lot of things. For the first time, Duo found himself growing close to people who could more than fend for themselves. Like him, they controlled the destructive power of a Gundam, and like him, they had their own inner demons and dark secrets to battle and to hide. They were no more fragile than he was. Even Quatre had a vein of strength that ran as deep as a river and as sturdy as steel. Maybe that was why they fascinated him so much. They weren't like any people he had ever met.

That didn't explain his recently discovered attraction to Wufei, however.

Duo had tried nearly his entire life to keep people from meaning too much to him. Every time that he allowed it, they left him. And while he understood on an intellectual level that loss was inevitable and a part of life, on a emotional level, it was difficult. Yet, for all that he tried to keep people from worming their way into his heart, he had first found himself drawn to Heero. The introverted pilot of Wing Gundam fascinated him, with his physical and mental strength. Not to mention, he wasn't half bad looking.

Heero was an interesting puzzle that Duo had first wanted to solve, and then keep for himself. The problem was, he could never get past Heero's outer shield, and the Perfect Soldier didn't show an ounce of interest, much less any other emotion. He seemed to want to be alone. And a person could only take so much rejection, even someone like Duo, who was used to it and almost expected it from the people around him.

In the process of trying to get to Heero, Duo had noticed how Wufei kept to himself almost to the point of isolation. He seemed to prefer his books to their company, and was barely civil when you spoke to him. Duo was of the opinion that the Chinese boy needed some serious cheering up. So while he chased Heero for romantic reasons, Duo adopted Wufei as his project to transform into some semblance of a social human being. He had never expected it to be so difficult, nor had he expected to actually enjoy the grumpy pilot's company to the point where he sought it out without really even noticing it.

The name he had given to it was friendship. At times, the real Wufei would make appearances, and upon occasion, Duo had interesting conversations with him, all of which had succeeded in piquing his curiosity and increasing his liking of the quiet Chinese boy. It had never occurred to him that he was wasting his intentions on the wrong person, or that he liked Wufei in that manner, much less that Wufei could possibly return those feelings. But he knew now, that whatever Wufei might actually feel, and he certainly wasn't sharing, the Nataku pilot wasn't immune to him.

Mouth set into a thin line, he shifted his weight where he leaned against he wall, amid racks of men's clothing. Somehow, he wasn't sure how even now, he had convinced Wufei to try on a pair of jeans. The Chinese pilot had informed him that he had no intentions of ever wearing them, and that if Duo bought them, he was going to be wasting money. Duo thought Wufei's wardrobe could use a little variety. Wufei thought the same thing about Duo's. Neither of them were budging.

"Are you happy?" A voice demanded.

Duo lifted his head, pushing his black cap back so that he could see completely.

"Spin around, so I can see," he instructed, spinning his own finger in the air in demonstration.

Wufei eyed him balefully, but turned dutifully, arms crossed over the dark blue tank top that could usually be found beneath his tunic.

While Duo appreciated the view, he suddenly wished he hadn't asked Wufei to do that. The tight fit of the denim left nothing to the imagination. Those loose fitting pants of Wufei's, along with his long tunics covered a very nice behind and didn't even begin to show how slim his hips were. It was a very good thing Wufei was refusing to allow Duo to buy these for him, as well as refusing to wear them. Duo wasn't certain he could keep his eyes where they were supposed to be otherwise.

"You're right, Wu. Doesn't suit you," Duo voiced, grinning.

While they looked nice, that was true. Those sets of clothes that always reminded him of very expensive pajamas seemed to have been made for Wufei.

Wufei narrowed his eyes. Duo's dismissive comment almost made him want to buy the jeans and wear them anyway. Almost. Wufei wasn't overly fond of these clothes American's considered a staple in their wardrobe. He liked the loose fit of his own pants, as they allowed for easy movement while fighting. They were certainly less restricting.

"I'll wait here while you change back. Better hurry. You left your coat and other stuff all alone in there," he added, folding his arms across his chest as he slouched back against the wall.

Spinning on his heel, irritation evident in his step, Wufei wondered why he let Duo talk him into this. It probably had something to do with the fact that the Deathscythe pilot had pestered him until Wufei just wanted him to shut up. The only foreseeable way of making that happen was just to try the jeans on. For whatever reason, however, he found Duo's opinion bothered him. What did he mean they didn't suit him? That he looked bad in them, or that he looked better in his own pants? And why the hell did he care?

Grinding his teeth, Wufei clenched his fists and stalked into the dressing stall, the fact that it was a public place the only thing keeping him from slamming it. He had not, and never would, care about clothing or fashion. He was not going to start now simply because that insufferable pilot thought he needed variety. He was perfectly happy with what he was wearing. It was functional, it was comfortable, and it was a part of his own culture. The last thing he wanted was to be assimilated into another.

Scowling at his reflection, he peeled the jeans off and proceeded to dress in his own clothes.

When he was done, and the jeans had been discarded onto one of those convenient sales racks for the clerks to return them to their rightful places, he went in search of Duo. He wasn't where he had left him. A momentary search was all it took to find him, however. He was leaning over the counter, conversing with a young girl standing behind the register. She was smiling, and gesturing animatedly, her hand reaching out every so often to touch Duo in some way. Duo made no move to pull out of her way, and appeared to be enjoying himself. Duo, the social creature.

Wufei felt an odd tightening in his chest, and his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as he maneuvered his way through clothing racks. Did Duo flirt with everyone? Was that just the way he was? Meaning that Wufei had misinterpreted the other pilot's actions toward him. Perhaps he had been wrong, and there had been nothing there at all. In which case, he had come quite close to making a fool out of himself, and that did not sit well with him. Nevermind the fact that he had chosen to ignore the strange attraction burning between them. He was of the opinion that Duo shouldn't pretend interest where there was none.

Duo felt, more than saw Wufei approach. It was that dangerous air he carried with him, as if he was just barely containing his temper. The expression on his face would have caused a lesser man to knuckle under, but Duo was not only used to such treatment, he also didn't fear it. There was something about the way Wufei held himself that set Duo on edge, and pushed Shinigami up just beneath the surface, waiting there if he was needed.

He would try another route first.

"Hey Wu, ready?" He asked cheerfully, grinning.

Wufei ignored him and fixed his stare on the girl. Duo watched her attempt to stand up under the onslaught and then wilt. She was just a store clerk, not a fighter, and certainly not capable of fending off someone as forceful as Wufei.

What the hell was wrong with him?

"Sir, can I help you?" The girl managed to ask, her tone timid, quite different from the animated voice she had been speaking in to him only moments earlier.

"We are finished here," Wufei replied icily, dismissing the girl and walking past Duo to grab his arm.

Duo let him pull him only until they were out of the girl's sight and then he jerked away, rounding on Wufei with blazing eyes, the corners of his mouth turned down in a fit of temper that was a rarity for him outside of Deathscythe.

"What the hell was that all about?" Duo demanded, his voice cracking through the air like a whip; low, forceful, and stinging.

Wufei's expression remained, but Duo thought he saw a flicker of doubt pass through the other's eyes. Good. Wufei was being a total bastard for no apparent reason, so he could deal with Shinigami. If he didn't like that, then he should have used his spectacular brain to tell him that his behavior was way out of line.

Drawing himself up stiffly, he responded with equal verve, "You may find it perfectly acceptable to flirt with anyone you come into contact with, but where I come from-"

Duo's hand sliced through the air. "Wait just a goddamned minute. Who the fuck do you think you are? _You_ don't tell me how to do _anything_. If I want to flirt with half the world, I don't think it's any of your damn business. But for the record, Chang, I was being _friendly_. The same way I am with everyone. Where _I_ come from, that's considered good manners."

Wufei had never been faced with the God of Death before. He had never given Duo a reason to bring him out. Duo had also never called him by his last name only before, a fact which spoke volumes about just how furious he was. But despite knowing all that, Wufei couldn't let go. For reasons unknown to him quite yet, he didn't want to be just another of those people Duo was friendly to.

"I see." He replied coolly, surprised at how much effort it was to remain so calm and distant beneath Duo's glare. He had severely underestimated the strength of this boy. "So you treat everyone with equal regard. Does that mean you felt the same way for Heero as you do for this girl?"

He didn't even see it coming.

Pain exploded just beneath his left eye, leaving him seeing bright flashes of light as he struggled to regain his senses. Vaguely, from his uninjured eye, he could see Duo lowering his fist.

"That was low, Wufei Chang, even for you. And that was twice, in a total of two days, you've managed to treat me like dirt. You go ahead and have fun shopping. Because I'm going to find my own way home," having said that, he turned and stalked off, not noticing that a package had worked its way out of his back pocket and fallen to the floor.

Wufei watched him walk away, the swelling in his face momentarily forgotten as Duo's words echoed in his head. The mask was firmly in place, but the eyes, the eyes were alive with a mixture of feelings clawing and tearing at his insides. He had hurt Duo. Really hurt him. All because he was jealous of a complete stranger. Not only had he never felt more ashamed in his whole life, but he also had never felt so alone. Had he just managed to drive away the only person who had ever tried to get beyond his shields to find the person he kept hidden away? God, it hurt to think he might have. He hadn't hurt this much since... since...

Clenching his fist, he shoved those thoughts violently away and bent over to pick the package up. It appeared to be a fairly good sized box, wrapped in tissue paper. It would be wrong of him to open it, he knew, but he had already managed to ruin a perfectly nice day, probably one of the few he had the pleasure of experiencing in a long time, and somehow he knew that he needed to.

Eyes never leaving the package, he tore the paper off with more gentleness than he felt. When he got down to the box itself, he hesitated. Whatever this was, it had been Duo's. Opening it would be like another insult against the American pilot. But even still, he found himself lifting the edge and reaching into more tissue paper to reveal the contents.

What he saw lying there stole his breath as if Duo had been here, and punched him in the stomach this time instead of the face. With fingers that shook slightly, he lifted the beautiful knife lying there and looked closely at the ivory handle. There was an inscription on it: To Wu-man, From Maxwell.

The knife fell from his fingers as they lost their strength. His eyes swept shut against the sharp pain that shredded his heart, left him feeling base, and cruel, and a bigger monster than the entire OZ faction put together. No one had ever bought him a gift before, and Duo never did things lightly, never without purpose, never without meaning. And he had destroyed that. He could feel his chance with Duo slipping through his fingers as easily as water. And all because he had been foolishly jealous.

"Duo..."

You shouldn't try so hard. I'm not worth the effort. 


	5. Chapter 5

When Wufei had first taken on Nataku, it had not been for the good of the colony. His reasons had been much more personal, and much more selfish. Gone, was the scholar that had held learning and peace in such high regard. What were books and intellect if one could not even protect those closest to him? He, who had been weak lived, while she, who had been strong, perished. Where was the justice in that? Why should the weak live and the strong die? It was unfair, but Wufei had learned harshly that day that nothing was fair, least of all life.

It was like being awake for the first time, as if he had merely been sleepwalking a dream. He saw everything with startling clarity, knew what it was he had to do. He would bring honor to she who had fallen by carrying out her vendetta against OZ. He would bring the justice she could not. For OZ had no right to imprison their colony. They were certainly not following any ethical, judicial code. Why should he? He would make his own justice based on his interpretation of their punishment. He would cease to be Wufei Chang the scholar and become Wufei Chang the Gundam pilot.

His focus had been narrow, and dangerous as he trained, his thoughts consumed with a burning hatred for OZ that ate at him from the inside out. Always before he had waffled, never making any firm decision. She had called him weak for that, and she was right. Now, he knew exactly which side he stood on and who his enemy was. Her enemies were his enemies and the enemies of everyone. He and Nataku, who were bonded through their mutual hatred and their goal, would destroy them all.

But then, he met up with the other four Gundam pilots, and things began to change. No longer was he fighting for only her, but for the good of all the colonies, for a goal that was bigger than he was, bigger than them put altogether and much more important.

At first, there had been enormous guilt. He had taken this task on for her, and now he was allowing these other pilots and the thought of the colonies to steal that focus. Yet, he was helpless to stop it from happening. The more time he spent with them, the harder it was to hold on to that hatred.

It was still there, just not to the degree it had been before. It no longer made up the center of him. It was hard to remain distant when they continued to show him friendship, shared some of his ideals, and were always there, like a constant source of strength. Even Trowa and Heero, who said little and seemed to value their silence and privacy as much as he did, were there if it was needed. Somehow, along the way, through their mutual goals and connections to their Gundams, they had joined up and formed an odd friendship that bordered on an absurd family.

They understood him, as he understood them, and they accepted him as he was. Except one pilot. One refused to respect his wish to be alone, and pushed at him constantly. Of them all, whether he wanted to admit it or not, Duo Maxwell had made the most impact, had left an indelible mark that would never leave him. Not even if they separated and never saw one another again. Which, after yesterday, Wufei would not blame him.

Leaning back in Nataku's cockpit, he rested his head against the black leather of the seat and closed his eyes. Sleep had been sparse the night before. He could not get that mixture of hurt and anger he had seen in Duo's eyes out of his mind. The image of it burned behind his own eyes, as if imprinted there forever, a mockery of his failure as a friend, as a decent human. Like many, he had his pride, perhaps more than most, but he would give nearly anything to have taken those words back. But it was not to be, and he could not take back what was now out and between them.

Strange, how words could hurt so much more than fists. It only served to prove the fragility of the human spirit.

He didn't know how Duo got home, or when he got in, but Wufei at least knew he did so safely. Three AM had taken him to the doorway of Duo's room to find the pilot sleeping soundlessly, his body a pale vision in a tangle of sheets, his dark hair a comfort that curved around his body like an anchor. It had been beyond difficult to tear his eyes away from that sight and leave. Oddly enough, there had been no sensuality in the act. The heavy, warm feeling that had infused through him had been something else entirely. Something akin to regret and a caring he had never felt before and did not altogether understand.

Frowning, he sat forward and reached out to tap lightly on the keypad there. It was unlike him to waste so much time thinking when there was a mission to be done. Perhaps this time, it was because it was a mission that would require Duo's help. That meant talking to the Deathscythe pilot, and that was not something Wufei was certain he was ready to do. If that made him a coward, then he would have to deal with that realization later.

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The ache in his arms was very nearly gone, which certainly made braiding his hair easier. But it pissed him off that he couldn't even braid his own hair now without thinking of Wufei and how his hands had felt doing that very same act. It was bad enough that the Chinese pilot had followed him into his dreams, intruding on the one place he could have completely to himself without the interruption of the outside world.

Rubbing absently at the back of his neck, he tugged his hat down low over his eyes with his free hand, leaving his room behind reluctantly. He didn't want to see Wufei right now. Whether he wanted them to or not, the Chinese boy's words still hurt him. Wufei had accused him of being shallow, selfish, and free with his feelings, as if the thought of having them given to you was worth nothing when so many others could have the same. That was bullshit, pure and simple, because Duo had cared for only a select few people in his life, one of them being that damn, stiff, all knowing pilot who had given him happiness and ripped it to shreds all in the same breath. fter his anger had subsided to a point, Duo had tried to understand it from Wufei's point of view. The guy was obviously not very good with feelings. He didn't appear to have had much practice. It was apparent at least, that the other boy felt something for him. He wouldn't have gotten so upset otherwise. But that didn't excuse what he said, and Duo, while often kind and generous to a fault, was not going to forgive easily. Not something that hit as personally as that insult had.

Sometime after he left the mall and took to walking the town without really seeing anything his eyes passed over, Duo realized that he had lost the gift. The money didn't matter. It had called out to him as he passed the shop. It looked like something Wufei would have, and so Duo had sent the other pilot off on a bogus errand in some other store while he had it engraved and wrapped. It was a moot point now, anyway. Someone else had probably picked it up and sold it.

Wandering into the kitchen, he looked around for something to eat. An orange or an apple even would have been appreciated. But with the silence and emptiness of the kitchen, he was reminded that this would be the first morning in a long time that the Chinese pilot wouldn't be cooking breakfast for him. Damn Wufei Chang to hell for that hurting him too. He didn't want the boy to have that much power. It was more dangerous than being in Deathscythe and outnumbered by the enemy.

Not finding anything of interest on the counter, he was contemplating raiding the cupboards, when something on the table in the dining room caught his eye. Walking as if in a trance, his eyes never leaving the small white bundle, he came up just short of reaching the table.

The knife. His gift. Wufei had found it. Why of all people, did Wufei have to find it? Duo was almost certain he would rather it be stolen and sold. Having Wufei see that after the way he had stripped him was like giving the other pilot a glimpse into his heart that he neither deserved nor appreciated.

Even knowing he didn't want Wufei to have it, Duo couldn't help but feel rejected at seeing it sitting there. The coward hadn't even had the decency to give it to him in person. Not that he should be surprised. That, and he had to admit to feeling a bit relieved. He didn't quite trust his temper around the Nataku pilot yet.

Sighing, he reached down to pick the box up in his fingers, delicately balancing it there, but not opening it. He didn't need to see what it looked like anyhow. It was seared into his mind.

"I do not deserve that," a quiet voice intoned from behind him, leaving Duo to spin, his braid snapping around his body.

After giving Wufei a long, measured look, he agreed bluntly, "No, you don't."

Wufei remained silent. He expected no less, and deserved no more.

Duo shifted restlessly, trying not to notice how tired and almost defeated the Nataku pilot looked. It was obvious he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Duo was torn between feeling for him, feeling elated at the thought that Wufei was filled with guilt, and feeling as if the pilot deserved it.

Only the length of the kitchen separated them, but it might have been miles for the cool emptiness directed his way. Duo was still angry, and beneath that anger, Wufei was certain hurt lurked. Anger he could handle, but never the hurt. He didn't want to be the cause of that. It meant that he felt something for Duo and that the Deathscythe pilot had given him the power to harm him. He didn't want, nor need that responsibility. But it was a little too late for that now.

He wanted to apologize, but the words sounded empty and worthless. Words couldn't erase words. The fact remained, he said them and he said them with the expressed intention of lashing out to cause Duo pain. Hadn't that been what he wanted? To make Duo feel the same way he had felt? Odd, how that hadn't made him feel better at all. It made him feel worse.

Fingering his braid absently for comfort without really being aware of it, Duo set the knife aside. Seeing for the first time, now that he was looking past his feelings and Wufei's emotional wall, the nasty colored bruise he had given him, he winced a little, knowing it must hurt. He hadn't exactly been gentle. Once pushed beyond relief, he rarely was. Shinigami wasn't known for his mercy.

"Nice shiner," he said after a few moments, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Wufei allowed himself a small amount of relief. Seeing Duo so serious bothered him in a way he was loathe to explore. It was he that was solemn, while Duo worked to chip away at that gravity.

Reaching up to touch it lightly with the tips of his fingers, he answered, eyes never leaving Duo, though the act was difficult when he still felt ashamed of his behavior, "The one who hit me has promise. He managed to get past my guard."

The Deathscythe pilot inclined his head, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants. "And did you deserve it?"

Duo was not going to make this easy for him. Wufei felt a flare of annoyance, but he stamped it down. Regardless of how justified he had felt yesterday, the way he went about it was wrong. It wasn't as if the other pilot was so stubborn he never listened to anyone outside of himself. Wufei couldn't help but wonder how different things would have been had he approached the situation from another angle. He might have gotten Duo's beautiful laughter instead, or just mild indignance.

But he hadn't. And now he was paying the price.

"Yes," he answered, his tone strained.

Holding back a smile, Duo couldn't help but notice what a hard time Wufei was having. It was probably killing him to push aside his pride and admit to being wrong. It wasn't often that happened. Wufei, for all his arrogance, was right more than any one person should be allowed to be. Especially one with a memory as sharp as his.

"You know, Wu," he said softly, the tone and his expression belying just how serious he was, but his eyes, having darkened to the point where they were a deep, unfathomable blue telling the other everything he needed to know, "you only had to tell me it bugged you. I would have said you were being paranoid again. I like people. I like talking to them. I've only got one life, and given my station as a pilot, it might not be that long of one. So I'm going to do whatever I damn well please with it. And that includes treating complete strangers like long lost friends. If you don't like that, then I suggest you get a new perspective."

It wasn't often something could render Wufei Chang speechless. In fact, it was probably a momentous occasion. With a mind as quick as his, retorts and repartees fell as easily from his tongue as praise did from another's. But right now, words failed him, and he could only watch as Duo came closer, his movements graceful and contained, as if he were a big cat stalking prey.

Something stirred in him. His pulse picked up pace, and it was all he could do to resist the urge to press his hand to his neck as if that act alone would still it.

He jabbed a finger out. "And don't you _ever_ belittle what I feel for Heero again. I never talked to you about it, so I don't really think you have a right to offer up your opinion. But I _did_ care for him. He just apparently never noticed," Duo shrugged the last comment away, as if it meant less to him than it did.

Heero. Wufei's jaw tightened, and it was as if an icy wind swept across his skin. Any and all emotion that may have been visible in his eyes fled as the shield shuttered down, taking with it whatever he had been on the verge of saying. Regardless of what Duo thought, Wufei knew that the Wing pilot cared. It was not his place to say that, however. And he didn't give a damn how selfish or childish that seemed. If Duo was too blind to notice, then that was his fault. As far as he was now concerned, it was over. This conversation about yesterday or anything else was over. There was a mission to consider.

Duo's steps faltered. Wufei had withdrawn from him again. He could see it in the distant way he now held himself. He had been so close. So close to getting the Nataku pilot to admitting to _something_. He was sure of it! Damn Wufei. Sometimes he was no better than Heero.

Wufei lifted his hand, showing Duo the thin black disk he had been holding, but only now drew his attention to.

"We have a mission," he informed the other boy tonelessly.

Duo folded his arms, hip jutting to the side as he eyed Wufei with a raised eyebrow. "We?"

The Chinese pilot nodded curtly. "Our Gundams will not be necessary. Come. Let us use Heero's computer. I downloaded the necessary information from Nataku to this disk."

Without waiting for an answer, Wufei turned and began walking, leaving Duo to watch his retreating back in thought for a few moments. The way the other had said Heero... The last time Duo checked, Wufei and Heero had been getting along just fine.

"Spare me from moody men!" He muttered to himself, slapping his hand against his leg in mild impatience as he straightened his frame and strode after Wufei.

He caught him halfway up the stairs, and closed his hand over Wufei's shoulder to halt his progress. Snapping his head around, Wufei stared pointedly at Duo's hand until the other let go.

"Listen here, _Chang_, you've got feelings you obviously don't know what to do with, but that's not my problem. If we're supposed to work together on this mission, I suggest we put aside whatever personal differences we have and act like the soldiers the Doctors trusted the Gundams with."

Having said that, he snatched the disk from Wufei's hand and shoved past him to continue on up the stairs.

Wufei stared after him, brows slamming together as he considered Duo's words, ones that should have come from him, not the carefree, reckless Deathscythe pilot. More and more, he was realizing he had not taken enough time to look closely at Duo. And what bothered him, was the way the American seemed to be able to read _him_...

When he reached the room Duo shared with Heero, it was to find the pilot already loading up the disk with an efficiency that would have impressed even Heero.

Duo shifted in the chair, tossing Wufei a grin over his shoulder. "I paid more attention than Heero gave me credit for while he played with this thing."

Now a smile. The boy was a chameleon. And strangely enough, it angered him.

Folding his arms across his chest and keeping his posture stiff and formal, Wufei moved to stand next to Duo. The proximity shredded his nerves. He could smell vanilla, and an underlying scent that was Duo's and Duo's alone.

When a series of pictures flashed on the screen, with seconds between them leaving only long enough to get the basic details in, Wufei waited until a blue map appeared to lean over and point at the screen.

"This is a research facility not far from here. It is in a civilian sector of the city, which make usage of the Gundams not an option. The facility itself is surrounded by seven foot tall stone walls with barbed wire at the top. The facility is working to develop the latest Mobile Suits for warfare."

Here, he paused, waiting for Duo's nod to see that the other was getting what he was saying and so that may continue.

"Somehow, the three engineers in charge of the project, Professors Niles Macray, Gerard Witmann, and Fujistu Taichi, have gotten a hold of the plans on at least two of our five Gundams."

"Shit!" Duo exploded, frowning intently at the screen.

"In any event," Wufei continued, as if Duo had not spoken at all, "the fault lies with the Doctors, not us. They wish for us to infiltrate the facility, assassinate the engineers, erase the files and sweep the system to ensure they were not sent elsewhere, and then set explosives so that the building collapses in on itself, harming no innocents."

Duo leaned back in the chair. Wufei said it all so matter-of-fact, so without emotion. This was not going to be easy. Most all of their missions had required the use of their Gundams. He and Wufei weren't exactly trained in guerrilla warfare. That was Heero and Trowa's area expertise. And killing someone in cold blood, someone whose face and more importantly whose eyes you could see before you did... His hands tightened involuntarily on the hand rests. Damn careless doctors...

"I will assassinate the engineers and sweep the system. You will set the explosives."

Duo looked up sharply, trying to read Wufei's feelings on this decision. He was met with a blank, carefully guarded stare. Those black eyes were telling him nothing.

"You don't have to do that, Wu. I can-"

"I am a better hand to hand fighter than you," the Chinese boy interrupted, managing not to sound arrogant, but rather as if he were simply stating a fact.

"Yes, but we're talking about killing... we're talking about cold blooded murder! This isn't like when we're in our Gundams."

"I know that," Wufei retorted sharply. "But this is necessary."

Duo wondered which of them Wufei was trying to convince more.

"But why assassinate them? We're going to blow the building up anyway..."

If it was at all possible, Wufei's features hardened more.

"To make certain they are dead," he replied impassively.

So cold, such a lack of regard for human life... But what Duo had accepted when he took this job on.

"Fine. You're the boss. I'll set the explosives."

Wufei nodded. "Study that map. Figure out where you want to set them, calculate the amount needed, and run through how long it will take you. We want no mistakes. We want to get in and out as quickly as possible. We have two hours before we leave."

He frowned. "Two hours... That isn't a lot of time to prepare."

Wufei's gaze was cutting. "In precisely two and a half hours, Professor Fujitsu will be leaving for Tokyo. We need to dispose of him before that happens."

Duo's face wrinkled up. Dispose... What a word. Like they were doing something as simple as taking out the trash.

"Approximately how many guards?" Duo asked, eyes on the screen.

"It is estimated to be at least fifty OZ soldiers stationed throughout."

Fifty? Christ...

"The building is two stories. As you can see, doing this as silently as possible is imperative."

No kidding...

"What about you?" Duo asked, turning to look at him.

"I am ready." Wufei replied simply, and Duo wondered. Was he really prepared to kill three men just like that? Three men who he could see, who could talk back to him before he ended their lives?

"Also," Wufei added, "we will need enough explosives to blow our way into the back wall, but not enough to draw attention to us."

Duo frowned. This was going to take some serious math. Good thing he liked the stuff.

"Two guards will be stationed where we enter for certain. We'll take their uniforms to make moving through the facility easier."

Duo raised an eyebrow. "And they're gonna be short enough?"

Wufei didn't smile, but he wanted to. "We'll make do."

"How thick is the wall?" Duo asked, changing subjects.

Wufei tapped the screen. "The wall is made of eight inch thick cinder block."

The Deathscythe pilot nodded, his mind already whirling. He turned his attention to the screen, eyes reading the blueprint as easily as another would the letters on a page.

"Definitely an inside job. They'll have to be placed on all the structural supports. Here..." he mused, tapping the screen. "And here... one just over here..."

While he was reading the measurements and dimensions, Wufei slipped from the room, expelling the breath he had been holding. No matter what he told Duo, he was not ready to assassinate three men as easily as he killed in Nataku. But Duo was better with the explosives. It was almost as if he had a sixth sense about the things. He rarely made mistakes. And Wufei... he was the better fighter. So he would take the other job, because for some reason, he didn't want Duo to have that responsibility.

Two hours was not long enough to prepare. Not nearly long enough... 


	6. Chapter 6

Duo knelt beside the stone wall, his black bag pooled at his feet. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he carefully attached the necessary amount of explosives, complete with remote detonator. If his calculations held up, and they rarely failed, the noise made by the blast would be minimal. In the event that they did alert any nearby guards, however, both he and Wufei were more than prepared to compensate.

Not far from Duo, Wufei rested on one knee, his hand curved around the cold steel of a pistol. Expression grim, he looked around, rather than at the weapon, as if he was trying to deny its existence. As a warrior of the old ways, he considered guns to be heartless and impersonal. Granted, there was nothing compassionate about taking another's life. Wufei felt that by doing so with a sword, however, one not only had to use more skill, but also had to accept responsibility for the death by looking the enemy in the eyes. This honored both you and the person you were fighting, whether they deserved the respect or not.

He had been taught that death without honor was merely a random act of violence. He was not here for that reason. The person he had been before would not even have fought at all, his beliefs were so entrenched in peace and the absence of all battling. The thought of positioning himself behind a gun and allowing it to cut down his enemies without being seen was something he had spent the last two hours coming to terms with. Because while he was no longer that person, he still found it hard to violate some of the ideals that part of himself had held.

The fact remained, however, that he was a Gundam pilot. He had shed many of his personal convictions to become this, and it would be hypocritical of him to refuse to execute this part of the mission simply because it went against those. In the midst of this war for peace, he was but one voice in many, and his words were drowned out by the cries of the masses. It was for them, for _her_, that he did this, not for himself. So it was, he would shed what he had once been to become what he now was, perhaps losing his true self in the process. But that was the price he paid for the ideal they reached for, and he was far from having filled the debt.

Molding the high explosive mixture to the stone was a simple task, as its structure lent to easy manipulation. Composition C explosives, widely used by the armed forces, were essentially demolition explosives, used for the express purposes of blowing things up quickly and effectively. This particular one was c4, the most widely used and easiest of them all to obtain (though naturally, for someone like Duo, who was considered a civilian, the actual obtaining of the c4 was shady). Its mixture of various parts lent to high stability for storage and transport, a fact which someone such as Duo, who was often on the move, liked.

Its explosive abilities were determined by the amount of the substance applied, and the set up was such that the detonator set off a primary charge, which then acted with a booster charge to set off the final and most dangerous bursting charge. In short, it was a chain of events that took no more than seconds, but was vital to the effectiveness of the blast. Duo merely found it fascinating that such a stable explosive was one of the few that fell into the category of such rapid decomposition. It certainly went a long way to showing you just how lethal chemistry was.

After making certain the detonator was secure, Duo backed away from the wall, motioning for Wufei to do the same until they were at a safe distance. Pursing his lips slightly, he mourned the loss of another detonator. The things didn't come cheap. It required some seriously worthwhile goods for trade to get even a few of them.

"What are you waiting for?" Wufei hissed, impatience evident.

Duo sighed, not expecting him to understand.

Without answering, he fingered the remote one last time and then pressed.

For a single moment, there was nothing. Wufei was about to ask Duo if he was certain it was set up right, when there was a sudden dull pop, like that of a cork being removed from a wine bottle. Small pieces of the wall littered the grass not far from their feet, and a fine white mist of powder hung in the air, as if reluctant to fall.

Duo looked to Wufei. "You sure you want to do it this way?"

"It is a little late now," Wufei replied, annoyed at the interruption. Did Duo think him so incapable?

"Yeah, but-"

The Nataku pilot cut him off with a sweep of his hand through the air.

"We have no time for this. We have already prepared for our respective parts. You are no more ready to sweep the system than I am to set explosives. Now come on."

Both pilots left their current places of safety and gathered their separate objects as close to themselves as possible while they moved through the narrow gap created in the wall. Duo's calculations had been so refined, that it was all they could do to squeeze through without getting trapped. In his thin clothing, Wufei felt the scraping of the stone against his back the most, and his expression told Duo he was less than pleased with that fact.

"Do you think next time, that you can make the entrance narrower so that we may actually get stuck?" Wufei remarked in obvious sarcasm, his voice barely above a whisper.

Duo rolled his eyes.

"Hey, the whole point was to keep quiet, right? At least we got through," he pointed out.

Wufei refrained from remarking as they dropped low and hurried across the short space between the wall and the double doors that marked the entrance to the back stairwell. With no surprise, they found it to be locked. Duo, however, a thief at heart, pulled out a set of lockpicks from his pocket and went through them rapidly until the lock finally gave way, granting them access.

As they had expected, there were two guards stationed just inside. With an amazing speed even Duo had trouble following, Wufei slipped past him and chopped each neatly on the back of the neck. Catching one as he fell, Wufei lowered him silently to the floor, noting as he did, that Duo had done the same. Luckily, the soldier's weapons were still holstered. Apparently, worry over security breach was minimal at best. Which was fine with them, as it made their job all the easier.

Pulling the soldiers into the back of the darkened stairwell, both he and Wufei quickly stripped down, neither of them aware of the other as their thoughts were consumed by their respective missions. This was serious now, and when Shinigami came, Duo faded away to replaced by the grim, focused entity. Still, he couldn't help but be grateful for the fact that Wufei insisted they wear clothing that neither of them minded never seeing again. After all, they weren't going to be overly concerned with retrieving them while the building was falling down around their feet.

Grimacing, Duo bent over and rolled up the cuffs of his pants, tucking them on the inside to make them less noticeable.

"I told you," he informed Wufei, who was following suit.

The Chinese pilot merely shrugged, straightening to press a small black communicator into Duo's hand.

Eyes serious, he ordered, "Use this only when necessary so as to avoid having someone tap in. But leave it _on_ at all times. I mean it, Maxwell. I don't want you dying somewhere because you forgot to turn it on and can't call for help."

Duo resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Wufei again. "Hey, Wu, quit talking to me like I'm an idiot. I get the picture. Here, I'll turn it on right now," he added, making a big production of doing so.

Trying to ignore how restricting the uniform felt in comparison to his own clothing, Wufei ignored Duo's antics and reached to reluctantly take the pistol in his hand.

"Fifteen minutes at the most," the Chinese boy warned him. "That should be all it takes for both of us."

Duo made a face. "Wu, even _Heero_ can't break in and sweep a system that quickly!" Wufei's clenched his teeth at being compared to the Perfect Soldier, and answered severely, "I can do it. Can you?"

"Yeah, yeah... At least I'll give it my best shot."

Dark eyes narrowed on his face. "Not good enough. I know you can do better."

He hid his surprise well. Another compliment? Surely the world was coming to an end.

"I was joking, Wu. If I couldn't do this, then I wouldn't have agreed."

"This is no time for joking," Wufei berated him, expression pinched.

Duo flashed him a grin. "Lighten up. Anyway, good luck."

Wufei took to the stairs, pausing to look back at Duo, only to find that the Deathscythe pilot was already gone. For someone who talked a great deal, and went out of his way to be noticed at times, he could certainly move silently when he chose to.

Pushing any worry he might have for Duo aside, Wufei forced himself to concentrate on his part of the mission. The control room and central computer were down at the end of the hall, guarded both inside and out. He would by-pass that particular step for the moment, however, because he first needed to locate the engineers and then assassinate them. He was not looking forward to that, but it was far past the point of backing out. He had made his choice, and he would follow through to the end with it.

Keeping his hand curled around the pistol he had slipped into the holster, he was amazed, but not ungrateful, that the soldiers hardly looked at him, and the various people who made up the core of the research teams found him just as easy to overlook. Their security was beyond lax. Wufei found it reproachable and very sloppy. A true soldier should be prepared for everything, and had he been one of them, he would have noticed right away his own lack of stature and the youthfulness of his face.

On the opposite side of the hall from the central computer, the blueprints had shown there to be a laboratory. It was used mainly for experimenting, while the floor down below where Duo was setting explosives was where the actual Mobile Suits were constructed. That area was much larger and more open to allow for easier movement of the enormous parts and equipment required. Wufei expected to find the engineers in the main laboratory. According to the logs he had hacked into, the engineers usually adhered to a strict routine they were probably not even aware of forming. Falling into habits was dangerous. But then, they were scientists, not soldiers.

At about this time, they would be eating lunch. Wufei's innate sense of cleanliness found the thought of eating in a place where chemicals sat beyond disgusting. He supposed they figured they inhaled them enough, however, what would it matter if it got on their food?

Getting in would be the tricky part. He needed an ID. The only possible way to do that, was to confiscate one from the various people wandering around in white lab coats. It was a simple matter of striking up a conversation, and then pulling the person into the broom closet so conveniently left ajar by the janitor. This all had to be done discreetly enough so that the surrounding guards would not notice, however.

The act itself took no more than a few moments, and Wufei did not go out of his way to be gentle as he deposited the body in the closet and heard the unmistakable click of the lock as he shut the door. It would not matter if the woman's flesh bruised. She could be one of the ones who was privy to the information on the Gundams and therefore had to perish with the facility. And Wufei found he could push away the guilt by telling himself it was part of the mission and necessary.

His mind was sluggish, but feet were quick as he made his way down the hall, ID clutched in his hand. He did not want to do this, which was why it had to be done all the quicker.

The door slid aside easily for him, and he slipped in, pistol already drawn and trained on the occupants of the room before his eyes even fell on them. Three heads turned simultaneously to stare at him in annoyance as the door shut behind him. Their expressions soon slid away to reveal mild shock when they noted who was standing there and what he had in his hands. Wufei wished that he could avoid their eyes. But they deserved that he at least acknowledge them before killing them.

"What do you want?" Professor Fujistu demanded, hands holding a sandwich still raised halfway to his lips.

He could not think of them as human. They were the enemy. They were employees of OZ, who was working even now to enslave the colonies with its deceit.

One of the others, Professor Witmann, must have thought him a rebel, who had only managed to get in here by sheer luck alone. He offered Wufei a smile and held his hands up in a form of surrender and to show him that he carried no weapon.

"Now listen son, whatever is bothering you, I'm sure we can talk it out."

Wufei wished it were really that simple. And he wished more than anything that it were Heero standing here. The Perfect Soldier would never have stalled like this, or questioned his orders.

Jaw tightening, Wufei raised his gun higher, his expression deadly and his tone icy. "No. The only way to rectify your mistake is to eliminate you."

Professor Witmann looked startled at the words, as well as the assured, purposeful way Wufei held himself. Wufei was perfectly aware that he looked and acted nothing like a 15 year old boy. He was long past that age mentally. It was only his body that needed to catch up with his mind. War, pain, death... They aged a man's soul so that only his eyes reflected the damage within.

The last of the three, Professor Macray, who had remained silent until now, seemed to be the quickest. Observation often gave one answers that otherwise would have remained elusive. Wufei had to respect him for that. It was a tactic he himself often applied.

"You're a Gundam pilot."

The other two looked at him, startled.

Wufei felt no sense in denying it. "Yes."

"But... You're just a kid!" Professor Witmann bit out.

Wufei's eyes narrowed. "Mistakes are made when one does not look past the obvious."

Professor Macray laughed. "I'm impressed. Too bad we don't have you on our side."

"Idiot! You're going to die and you find the time to laugh?" Professor Fujitsu hissed, eyes never leaving Wufei.

Professor Macray shrugged. "I knew this could happen when I accepted the plans. Didn't you?"

The other colored, and leaned back.

His face suddenly serious, Professor Macray looked straight at Wufei, startling the Chinese pilot with the intensity in his expression. "I'm going to make it easy on you, kid. I don't know why... maybe it's because I don't want this to stain your conscience. Mighty generous of me, eh?"

Before Wufei could react to that, Professor Macray was lifting a gun. Instinct for survival kicking in, Wufei threw himself to the side just as a bullet tore through the plaster in the wall directly where his head had been. Without hesitation, he spun, pulling his gun up, and squeezing off three shots. Their progress seemed to be slowed in his mind's eye, so that he was forced to watch them tear through clothing and flesh, simple pieces of metal robbing something so large of life as easily as stepping on a bug.

For one startling second, he could hear nothing and see nothing but the three men whose lives he had just taken. And then, it exploded upon him in one great rush, as if time had frozen for a moment or as if he had been standing in a vacuum. The echo of the gun burst all around him, burning his ears, and he felt the harshness of his breath pressing against his chest, the frantic beat of his pulse straining against throat.

The impact of the bullets slammed Professors Witmann and Fujitsu back in their chairs, while Professor Macray slumped over, gun falling from his hands in an oddly slow fashion, as if it were clinging to the air.

The snap of it hitting the floor echoed abnormally loud in Wufei's ears, drowning out the rush of adrenaline and the beating of his heart. It slid across the tile, spinning, the light flashing from it so that he found he could not take his eyes from it. Even when it hit up against his boot and lay still, he could not look away.

Slowly, carefully, he bent over and took the gun in his hands, barrel still warm from use. Face impassive through sheer will alone, he forced himself to look upon the fallen body of Professor Macray, whose pristine white lab coat was stained crimson from the blood even now rushing across the countertop, as though racing to leap off.

"You are wrong. I have no conscience..."

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While he worked to set another explosive, the last, Duo couldn't help but admire some of the completed and near finished Mobile Suits sitting in various slots throughout the facility. They were no where near as impressive as the Gundams, of course, but they still had a nice look about them. They were probably the only things he regretted destroying in here.

So far, his part of the mission had been relatively easy. The soldiers didn't pay much attention to him, despite the fact that he was carrying around a small, black bag. Duo found that pathetic, but who was he to complain when it made his job easier? He hoped that Wufei was doing as well as he was, and managed to squelch the small amount of worry that cropped up by telling himself that Wufei was more than capable of taking care of himself, not to mention the Chinese pilot would be highly affronted should he think otherwise.

Still, they had much to settle between them. When they got out of here, Duo was of a mind to force Wufei's hand. The Chinese pilot had been holding his cards too close to the vest. He was getting to the point where he was tired of waiting, tired of wondering, and damn sick and tired of thinking. He had never been overly fond of thinking. It led to too many other things. Things that almost always weren't pleasant.

"Yeah, Wu. Give me the easy job. I'm going to be twiddling my thumbs for the next..." he looked at his watch, "eight minutes."

So far, however, so good.

"Hey, what are you doing?" A voice demanded behind him, filled with a suspicion that killed his streak of luck.

Spinning suddenly, using his body to block the explosive as he discreetly kicked his bag behind him, he smiled brightly. "Just checking to see if the support is secure, sir."

The soldier's eyes went from Duo to the support and back again. He did not look convinced.

Shit.

"And," he went on, "it is! Amazing, huh? They make these things better than they used to. Last place I was stationed, one fell down right on our heads! Nearly took out half the building. It was very messy," he continued, his tone getting conspirational, "a lot of blood and stuff. I had lunch right after, but I couldn't eat. Some people were, but man..."

The soldier blinked, as if he wasn't quite certain what to make of Duo, or what to do with him.

Face hardening suddenly, he snapped, "Why are you off post? Who is your superior?"

Duo tried the grin again. It had worked in tighter situations.

"I told you, support was making me nervous. I wanted to check it to see if it was okay."

Bad move. He shouldn't have mentioned the support again. It drew the guard's attention to it. He was beginning to think this was going to end ugly. Wufei would not be pleased...

"What do you have back there?"

He was right.

"Nothing. I told you-"

"I don't believe you. You're coming with me," the soldier interrupted, reaching out for him.

Duo side-stepped the outstretched hand, all hints of amiability sliding away. Expression dark, he held his hand up to ward off further approach.

"I don't think you're taking me anywhere."

As quickly as he could blink, the soldier drew his gun. "I will if I have this."

Damn, this really _was_ going to get ugly.

Without wasting a moment, as he figured he really didn't have a moment to waste, Duo darted forward and struck downward. The edge of his hand caught the soldier just on the inside of the wrists, startling him and sending the gun flying from his hands. One swift punch brought him low enough for Duo to grasp either side of his head and smash his knee into the guard's face. Agility and size giving him the advantage, Duo scrambled to jerk the borrowed gun from the holster at his side and struck the soldier against the head.

He fell like a stone.

Unfortunately, the commotion had stirred curiosity, and before Duo could do much else, he was caught in a hail of bullets. Pulling back, he returned fire, wishing he had a machine gun. The magazines in those would certainly last longer than this pathetic pistol.

Gritting his teeth as a one shot blew past his head a bit too close for his own comfort, he looked around, finding the only somewhat decent cover within reach was the support. Great. With his slowly dwindling luck, they would no doubt shoot the explosive and start the party prematurely.

Another shot struck the pavement at his feet.

"You are so running out of luck!" He snapped at himself, ready to make a run for it. A few yards away there was a large piece of metal...

That was when pain exploded in his knee.

White hot pain that left him gasping for breath and feeling as if someone had reached into his skin and wrenched his knee cap out physically. His leg buckled beneath him, sending him crashing to his good knee, the other splayed beneath him at an odd angle. Tears of pain stung his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He had felt worse than this. He could take it.

He had been mistaken when he thought the guard was out for good. The man had somehow managed to find a discarded pipe, and had used it as a weapon. Duo thought he did a pretty effective job of smashing his knee in, at any rate.

Lifting his own weapon, he struck downward with relentless fury, striking the man this time against the temple. A red welt formed instantly, ringed with blood, and he knew that the man wouldn't be moving any time soon.

Clenching his teeth against the pain, he knuckles white against the ebony of the gun, he returned fire, noting that the soldiers had pulled closer. He was seriously outnumbered now and it was getting worse. The alarm had just went off. Wufei was definitely going to kill him. That was, if these guys didn't do the job first.

The communicator. It was still in his pocket. He only had to get it out of there and press it for Wufei to hear what was going on. Though he certainly wasn't looking forward to the litany this would bring down upon him, he could definitely use the back up.

Chucking his empty gun aside in disgust, he lunged for the one he had knocked from the soldier's hands, hissing in agony as his injured knee struck the pavement. Firing off a few more shots to keep them at bay, he reached into his pocket and wrenched the communicator out, thumb firmly pressing the button as he rolled out of the way of another shot. It hit the pavement, sending up chunks of it. One of these times, that was going to be his head.

There was a snap and then, "Maxwell?!"

"Wu, I'm knee deep in shit with no signs of getting out! Wanna come lend me a hand?"

"You-"

And then the communicator was shot from his hands.

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"Maxwell?! Duo! Dammit, Duo?!" Wufei tossed the communicator aside in disgust, hardly noting when it hit the wall and shattered from the force of the blow.

Brows slamming together in a look of complete fury, tinged with a desperate fear, he resisted the urge to slam his hands down upon the keyboard to make the insufferable computer go faster. He should have known Duo could not keep out of trouble. It followed the boy the way stray puppies did little children. And at the moment, he did not know whether Duo was alive or dead, and it scared him in a way nothing had ever before.

Vaguely, outside the door, he could hear the sound of an alarm. The entire facility was likely to be alerted and on the prowl now. He had to get this sweep finished and find Duo and get them out of here. Because he refused to believe that the other pilot was anything but alive. You couldn't kill Death.

Fist clenching and unclenching, he bent over the console, counting himself lucky that the file had not been transferred out of here. If this disk would just hurry up and erase the entire system, he would be free to leave. They could not chance that it would somehow be sent out before this entire place exploded. He had already had to work his way through a few interesting, but annoying fail-safes the engineers had installed. They were far from stupid.

And now, they were dead.

Steeling himself against he tightening that caused in his gut, Wufei pushed the image of them from his mind and concentrated on the screen. It was nearly finished now. Only a few more seconds and... There! He slammed his hand against he ejection knob and jerked the disk from the computer nearly in the same move. Spinning himself around, he sprinted across the room to force the door open and leap into the hall.

"You had better be alive, Maxwell," he snarled, "or I will kill you myself!"

The hall was swarming with soldiers.

"I don't have time for you!" He snapped, shoving all his weight forward to smack the first one in the chest hard with the palm of his hand.

As the startled soldier fell aside, he used the brief element of surprise still on his side and took out the nearest other one with a swift kick to the head. Dropping low at the last second, gunfire blasting over his head, he swept the feet out from under another, and brought his elbow down hard upon his chest, ignoring the unmistakable crack that signified broken ribs.

He leapt back to his feet in one effortless move, keeping the motion by continuing on into a run. The flash of bullets was all around him, and when one glanced his arm, shredding fabric and drawing blood, he ignored the sting, not even breaking stride. His purpose was to reach Duo, and nothing short of death was going to keep him from doing that. And like a charging bull, he tore through soldiers, striking them aside with the ease of adrenaline coupled with the mentality of a man on a mission.

Graceful, even in a frenzy, he threw himself to the side, avoiding a chest full of lead. Kicking up, he dislodged the gun from his opponent's hands and then swung back around, catching him behind the head with the opposite foot. The man stumbled to his knees, and Wufei leapt over him, not bothering to finish what he had started, as the man probably expected. He had more important things to do.

As he was tearing around the corner to the stairs, the sound of distant gunfire somewhere in front of him grew louder than the crossfire behind him. Clenching his teeth, he reached into a small pack secured at his waist, withdrawing what appeared to be three round balls. Duo had given them to him in the event that they were needed. Now seemed as good of time as any. Letting them settle securely in between his fingers, he leapt over the last three steps and skidded around the corner he had seen Duo take before they parted.

Wufei continued on down the narrow hallway, finding that it led into the open area they had seen on the map. Dark, narrowed eyes took in everything as they swept out in front of him. The sounds of guns firing echoed dully from nearly every available surface, and as he drew closer, he caught a flash of dark brown against lighter brown. Duo. He was on the ground and surrounded by soldiers who were fast closing in.

There was a ramp off to the side, just up against the wall. It would take him directly to Duo's left, provided the American pilot didn't move. Willing himself to move faster, though his lungs were burning and his muscles were stretched beyond relief, Wufei practically leapt up the steps to the ramp and without so much as stopping, let alone taking a moment to catch his breath, he hurled himself off and flung his hand out, letting the balls fly free. They stuck the tightly packed group of soldiers, exploding in a blur of smoke and fire. Ordinarily, that kind of formation would have served them well. In this case, it had worked against them.

He hit the ground inches from Duo with a noticeable grunt, shocks arching through the soles of his feet and up his calves.

"You really know how to make an entrance, Wu," Duo praised, as the Chinese pilot helped him to his feet and skirted them around the confused mess of soldiers.

"Your injury will slow us down," Wufei remarked without emotion, saving all that was pressing against him to be let out for later.

"Yeah, I know. Too bad Heero isn't here. He could carry me out of here," Duo remarked carelessly, his face dotted with perspiration as he leaned heavily against Wufei, trying to keep up, but wracked with pain.

The lines around Wufie's mouth grew taut. "We don't need Heero."

Without further word, and before Duo could comment on that, Wufei swept him up into his arms, managing to neither falter nor looked strained.

Duo blinked up into Wufei's face. "Uh... are you sure you can do this?"

Gunfire erupted behind them.

"We have no choice," Wufei responded tersely.

Duo wished he was in any kind of shape to savor this moment.

They burst out through the front, and into another barrage of gunfire.

Cursing, Wufei spun and pressed them close to the building, running along it as bullet after bullet struck just behind his head.

Duo was looking ahead. "Wu! There's a jeep up there! We can hot-wire it!"

Nodding, the Chinese pilot took them toward it, fatigue having yet to catch up with him. That would come later, when the edge of adrenaline wore off.

He did notice, however, that Duo didn't have his bag.

"Do you have the detonator?" He demanded, throwing them against the side of the jeep.

Duo patted his pocket. "Right here. You have the disk?"

Wufei's lips twitched despite themselves. "Right here."

Shoving Duo rather unceremoniously into the back of the jeep, he leapt in and ripped wires out carelessly, tension lancing through him when bullets struck, one hitting the windshield and cracking it.

Twisting some together, he was rewarded when the jeep leapt to life. Throwing it into reverse, he tore up the pavement, jerking it back around to plow through any guards that got in his way.

They drove through the barriers, and then the gate itself, nearly tearing the bumper off in the process. But they made it out.

"Now?" Duo asked faintly from the back seat.

"Now." Wufei agreed.

The grip he had on the detonator slipping, Duo rapidly pressed buttons to activate all the explosives before the black object dropped from his hands altogether.

From the rearview mirror, Wufei watched the building as explosions erupted from within and it began to collapse on itself. When it was finished, there would be nothing but rubble left. And the entire mess would stay within its confining walls.

His eyes turned back to the road again to make certain they stayed on it, and then flickered to the rearview mirror in time to watch Duo collapse into a dead faint. 


	7. Chapter 7

Duo awoke to warm hands probing around the area of his wound. One finger pressed in a little too hard, and he jerked up, shoving it rudely away as he tried to clear his head and focus.

Strong hands pushed him back down. "Lie still, Maxwell."

Wufei.

Despite himself, Duo relaxed.

"Your knee is the size of a small melon," the Chinese boy observed, so very tactfully.

"That's nice," Duo replied, grimacing as he covered his eyes with the back of his arm.

Wufei continued to poke and prod, his hands sliding around Duo's leg just above and below his knee so as to gently straighten it. Agony shot through him like wildfire, and he was unable to hold in a hiss of pain. This injury was going to make walking a lovely venture for quite some time. But, at the moment, it was worth it to have Wufei's hands against his bare skin. He doubted he would get this chance again anytime soon.

Shifting slightly, he realized he was holding his breath. He was waiting for the lecture.

"What were you thinking?"

Here it came.

"I didn't exactly say, 'c'mon guys, shoot at me, and while your at it, why don't you bash the hell out of my knee'. Some soldier got snoopy and I couldn't con my way around him."

The Nataku pilot grunted in response.

Letting his arm slide away, Duo eyed Wufei through slits in his fingers, noting as he did that he had a horrendous headache. There was a deep expression of concentration on the other pilot's face as he probed the knee, apparently wanting to make certain it wasn't broken. Duo just wanted him to be a little more gentle.

"Ouch! Gee, Wu, why don't you see if you can break it the rest of the way?"

"I just might," Wufei murmured, earning another stare.

He closed his eyes again, but not before noticing that he was lying on the living room floor of the house they shared. Apparently, Wufei had managed to get them home without him being aware of it.

He also realized something else, as Wufei moved away from him, creating a slight draft. He wasn't wearing any pants.

Despite his pain, he chuckled. "Hey Wu, looks like you got me out of my pants after all."

"Shut up, Maxwell!" Wufei hissed, his tone so harsh, that Duo turned his head to the side so that he could open his eyes again.

"I was just joking..."

Wufei was wound tighter than a watch. Duo could see it in the short, jerky movements the Chinese pilot was making.

Releasing some of the air that was trapped painfully in his chest, Wufei settled an ice pack on Duo's knee with more care than he felt like using. All those emotions were pressing to get out again. It was a mixture of everything. Of his fear at the thought of Duo being killed, at his guilt over having killed those scientists...

"You're hurt," Duo suddenly remarked, pulling himself to a sitting position with less speed than he normally would have been able to manage.

Wufei regarded him blankly for a moment before realization dawned and he turned to look dismissively at his arm. "It is just a scratch."

Duo leaned forward. "Still-"

Wufei's hand cut through the air. "Stay where you are."

Puzzled, Duo settled back. "Okay..."

He couldn't hold it in anymore.

"You could have been killed!" He exploded, hands bracing himself on the ground as he jerked toward the Deathscythe pilot.

Duo shrugged. "Yeah... that's the risk we take."

With a speed that both startled and stunned him, Wufei leaped on him, somehow managing to keep Duo's wounded legs between his own as he reached up to grip his shoulders and shove the American boy's face so close to his own.

Warm breath fanned across him, and Duo trembled both from it and being confronted with the fury etched in Wufei's face. He had never seen the other boy so angry before.

"No. Do not be so careless with your life," the Chinese boy bit out, his words striking Duo like physical blows.

"Wu-"

And then startling him further, Wufei pulled him into a crushing hug.

Duo was too shocked to react at first. After a few seconds, he slowly, hesitantly, brought his own arms up to wrap them around Wufei. Warmth and something else passed between them. Both stilled and tensed with the knowledge of it, neither wanting to let go of the other just yet.

But Wufei did. And when his eyes locked with Duo's, the other saw a gentleness there that softened the harsh lines of his face.

Wufei became suddenly aware of his proximity to Duo, and how the other's bare legs were pressed on the inside of his own. The sharp flash of desire caught him like a fist to the stomach and left him frantic with the need to get away before he did something he regretted, before Duo saw.

Duo reached out for him as he was pulling back, curling his hand around the back of Wufei's neck. He wasn't getting away. Not this time.

Wufei allowed himself to be drawn only so close. He couldn't allow this to happen. Somehow, he knew that if they touched this way, there would be no going back. He couldn't chance that yet. He wasn't ready for it.

"Wu?"

He shook his head.

Duo's eyes clouded with both confusion and hurt, though he tried to fight it. It wasn't just his imagination. He was sure Wufei felt as he did...

"This is just a result... of battle," Wufei forced himself to say stiffly. "We are just feeling relieved to be alive."

Temper snapped in Duo's eyes instantly. "Oh, really? Let me tell you something. You may not be comfortable with, or even realize your feelings, but _I_ know what mine are."

The face that had been flushed with beautiful desire only moments before closed off and Duo averted his gaze before Wufei saw just how much his words ate at him.

"Please leave, since I can't get up myself."

Wufei seemed about to say something, but moved back and pushed to his feet, staring down at Duo.

"Leave."

And he didn't watch him as he walked away, because right now, that hurt more than this stupid injury.

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Wufei rested his arms on the railing, clasping his hands together as he stared out into the darkness. From here, he could see only the faint outlines of the trees in the light provided from the moon and the spattering of stars in the inky black sky. The cool air caught the perspiration covering his bare skin and was a welcome relief from the stifling heat of the indoors. His mind was a whirl of thought and confusion, the feelings Duo had stirred in him awake and hungry, with no signs of quieting anytime soon. He had never felt this before, not even with Meiran.

Allowing himself a rare sigh, he felt some of the pressure release from the tension in his chest at the act. It was time to stop running. It was time to remember. Because if he could not let go of the past, then he would never be free to give himself to Duo without question. He knew that was what he wanted. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Wufei Chang wanted to forget caution and give himself completely to something. No, to someone.

He had never had that in his marriage to Meiran. Theirs had been a union between two children, not ready to commit to their complete personalities, much less each other for all eternity. But it was tradition, the way things had been done for generations, and so they both accepted it. It had been a marriage in name only, however, because neither of them had been willing to share a bed when they could not even share their hearts.

They were very different. Their notions about how life should be lived and the ideals one should carry brought them frequent conflict. While Wufei sought refuge from their constant arguments in the comfort of his personal library, Meiran took her frustrations out in the practice fields. Her family was a family of warriors, as his was, and though she had been born a woman in a long line of men, she was no exception.

Their marriage had not lasted long, and it had not been a pleasant coupling. Neither had made a great deal of effort to try to understand the other, and most of the words they had exchanged had been terse and hurtful. It had gotten so that living together was too much of an effort. It was much easier to live near separate lives rather than having her encroach the sanctuary of his library to extend an invitation to practice with her when she well knew he had no desire to have her criticize his form and offer him tips. Wufei had only made the mistake of accepting that offer once.

When she had died a death fitting of a warrior like her, he had only felt enormous guilt. They had never loved one another, not in the true sense of the word, but he had not hated her. He felt too, that he had failed her as a husband and as a man. He had not been there for her when she needed it. He had clung to his ideals of pacifism and she had died for her ideals of fighting

"Forgive me, Nataku... I cannot bring you the justice you deserve, and for that, I am weak. Every time I kill, the ache grows more and I feel emptier. It can't bring you back. It can't bring you justice. I am not the warrior you were. I never can be, no matter how I pretend. And I no longer have a purpose for fighting... or the right to be a pilot. No one who is weak and confused has a right."

"That's not weakness."

Tension snapping through him like a whip, Wufei spun around and crouched into a defensive position. A lean, lithe form unfolded itself from the shadows and emerged slowly, arms crossed over a narrow chest. Duo Maxwell was not smiling, and as he limped over to stand next to Wufei, the other could feel the anger radiating from him in great, engulfing waves. But somehow, Wufei knew that this had more to do with his words now than his words earlier.

Easing some of the tension from his coiled muscles, he straightened and replied quietly, "I do not know what you mean."

"Bullshit." Duo bit out. "You're intelligent, so why haven't you figured it out yet? Strength _is_ admitting to weakness. We're all weak, Wufei. We all have bodies capable of failing us, and moments where we feel we can't fight and we wonder why we're even alive. Can't you see that our personal reasons for fighting aren't worth shit? We fight for the colonies, so the colonies don't have to fight. We fight so Relena can preach peace. That's what we do. That's why we're alive. So you have your purpose, not this ridiculous justice."

Wufei stiffened. But he listened without comment, because he was incapable of forming one. He had never heard Duo sound this terse, nor was it often that the other pilot said his full name. Shinigami usually only came out in Deathscythe.

"Don't get all mad about it. Life is shit, Wufei. It's confusing, and you aren't ever going to figure it all out. Not even a super brain like you. I'm not the smartest guy around, but I've learned something. Death is inevitable. It's going to happen no matter what. So you have to cling to life, and you have to form connections and love. Caring doesn't make us weaker, it makes us stronger. It gives us purpose. I love the colonies, so I fight for them."

At his silence, Duo continued. "The enemies aren't always the same faces, but I know they're the ones that want to take away the right for freedom. The colonies deserve that as much as Earth does. So yeah, maybe it's really simple among all the complexity. I don't really fucking know. All I know is that I'll continue fighting. I'll continue fighting until this war has ended. We do what we can on our battle field, Wufei, and Relena does what she can on hers. And somehow, they'll all come together one day."

Duo laughed suddenly, harshly. "See? I'm not even making sense now. So don't think you're the only one who's fucked up."

"You're making sense," came the quiet reply. "It's simple if we make it simple."

The night wound its spell around them, trying to offer comfort in the cool serenity of the dark. But comfort was something both of them were beyond at this moment. There was still much that needed to be worked out inside.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Duo regarded Wufei's profile in silence, never having felt so old as he did now. They had both dropped their masks completely. The God of Death and the Solitary Dragon. They had revealed themselves to be nothing more than what they were, two confused boys whose maturity made them soldiers and whose confusion made them human. The strain of the responsibility put on them had made them weary, and their loneliness in the midst of battle had made them hungry for affection. And they were both learning that answers only led to more questions, that only together could they find the strength they needed to continue.

But it was more than that.

Duo cared for Wufei because of everything that Wufei was, not what he represented, or what he tried to be. Behind the mask, Wufei was kind, generous, and cared deeply. He was stronger than he gave himself credit for, smart in ways Duo never could be, and far too honorable for his own good. He also made him feel things he had never felt before. Intense desire, that left his knees weak, and his skin humming and burning for just the light touch of the Chinese pilot's fingers. What Duo saw in Wufei, was a different kind of completion from the one he shared with Deathscythe. And he was not about to give that up.

Not to the war, and not to the ghosts of Wufei's past.

Unused to such seriousness from Duo, Wufei wasn't able to form a suitable reply just yet. Duo's words to him reverberated around inside mind, clashing and twisting and forming new ideas.

Meirans death had hit him hard, wounded him deeply, not because he had loved her deeply, but because he had been unable to prevent it, and because someone as strong as her had died, while someone as weak as he had lived. If that were possible, then what did it say for the rest of them? Where was the justice in letting someone as strong as she, someone who could have made a difference die? Meiran had her ideals, and she had accepted that fighting for them could bring her death. And so Wufei had adopted those ideals for her, because he wanted to honor her, and to bring the justice she had never been given the chance to achieve.

Meiran had called him weak because he had refused to use his skills for fighting. She had told him often that inside him was the potential for the warrior, he was just too weak to allow him out. She has asked him how his books could protect him when OZ came to attack his colony? How could adopting peace, and then sitting back and doing nothing save them? Perhaps, in some ways she had been right. But at the time, Wufei had been too blinded to see what was really behind her words. He had been young, and hurt, and her words threw him off balance. His wife was stronger than he was. That was all he had been able to think. That, and he was weak for allowing her to fight while he remained behind.

Now, he could see that in her own way, Meiran had been scared. She had not understood Wufei any more than he did her, and that had lent itself to having her lash out at him, to deal with it the only way she knew how. They had both made their choices, and he could have no more stopped her than she him. For the first time then, it occurred to him that it might have been _she_ who was wrong in her notions of strength, weakness, and justice. What Duo said, made sense, because in his heart, where it mattered, Wufei felt it.

Strength was not physical strength, it was not the complete removal of fear. It was fighting for what you believed in, even when you _were_ afraid. Strength was acknowledging your weaknesses, and compensating for them in any way that you could. It was admitting that you needed someone, that you could not do it all alone, and then accepting that, no matter how confused it made you. Everyone was strong in their own way. Heero's solid strength, Quatre's gentle strength, Trowa's silent strength, and Duo's boisterous strength.

Everyone had their own sense of justice. You could not be given your justice. Wufei had made a mistake when he adopted Meirans, because it was not his purpose, but hers. It ate at him, when he could not live up to the image of her he had built in his mind. But that was no more fair to her than it was to him. He knew then, to continue fighting, he had to have his own purpose. Not Meirans any longer.

"Don't hurt yourself by thinking too much, Wu," Duo's softly amused voice cut through his heavy thoughts.

Wufei's dark eyes, so black in the night, focused on Duo, pinning them with the intensity of the emotions moving inside of him.

Duo's breath caught somewhere inside of him, and the flash of desire that jolted through him was so violent, he had to grab onto the railing to steady himself. The way Wufei was looking at him... was almost predatory. But there was a gentleness in those eyes that he knew was reserved for only him, and it touched his heart, leaving a warmth that he had to close his eyes against.

Arousal was something easy to explain and deal with, but love was another thing entirely. He wanted Wufei not only because he was attracted to him, but also because he loved him. And while that scared him deep into his soul, he was not about to give it up.

Wufei watched those impossibly dark lashes lower over eyes he had grown to love staring in to. Duo was such a complexity. He was light and he was dark. He was laughter and he was solemnity. He was strong, and he was special, so very special. Just being around him lifted you up, because Duo genuinely cared. He shared himself with everyone, regardless of the costs and gave and gave until he had nothing left to give. He was reckless, stubborn, and a smartass, but he was Wufei's smartass.

"Yes," Wufei murmured to himself, "mine."

No matter how you shot him down, or how many times, Duo kept trying to get through. His laughter brought Wufei light, and his humor made Wufei smile. Wufei valued his honesty, treasured his intelligence, and admired his skills in battle. He loved the sound of Duo's voice, wanted to touch his soft hair any chance that he could be given, and had begun looking for any excuse to be in the same room with the pilot without having even known it. It was why, he knew, he put up with Duo's antics while pretending to be annoyed. In truth, he held on to every moment spent in this beautiful person's presence and looked back on them when he most needed it. In short, he loved Duo.

And he wasn't even sure how to tell him.

Duo's eyes fluttered opened, disappointment flooding through him at the amount of air still separating them.

He wanted Wufei at this moment, wanted to bond with him body and heart, and could not see any way around the ache. The only way to make it go away, was to assuage it, so that it could come back, and he could make it go away again and again.

"Wu-"

"Shh." Wufei interrupted him. And then, he was closing the distance between them.

Reaching his arm out, Wufei drew Duo slowly to him, until their bodies melted into one another and breath, after shaky breath, fanned across heated cheeks. Lips parted in answering need and mutual ache, and arms came up to cling. Wufei reached down and pulled the tie from Duo's hair in one easy yank, running his fingers up the braid until the mahogany mass spilled around them, reflecting colors in the moonlight. At the deft, gentle touch of Wufei's fingers delving deep into his hair, Duo was helpless to stop a shudder from twisting through him and a breathless gasp of pleasure from escaping his lips.

He had never needed so much before, had never felt so much before. It was as if he wanted to crawl into Wufei's skin with him, to get as close as he could until nothing separated them.

Wufei closed his eyes briefly, reveling in the feel of Duo's surprisingly strong body pressed against his own. Heat reached through his clothing, searing his skin and leaving him trembling. Power tingled along every nerve at being able to produce such reactions in Duo, and the knowledge of it was both welcome and intoxicating. With that knowledge, he combed deeper into Duo's hair, pressing his fingers softly to his scalp, so that he could turn his face to his and slowly pull him closer. Their eyes remained open, endless black and deep blue, so that all they saw and all they felt was each other.

The wind blew softly across them, sending silken strands of Duo's hair against the bareness of Wufei's arm. The fragrance of vanilla filled his senses, leaving him surrounded by and reeling from the scent that always clung to Duo. The lighter of the two reached up his hands and slid them on either side of Wufei's face, watching with rapt fascination as the other swallowed hard and his tongue darted out to wet suddenly dry lips. Instinctively, Duo curved his hips into Wufei's, pressing them even more firmly together so that not even the whisper of air could have inserted itself between them.

Letting out an explosive breath, it was Wufei's turn to cry out softly when Duo's hands slid down his body, molding to every inch of flesh they came across, before curving around his backside. Two sets of eyes widened at the contact, both from the sensation and the fact that Wufei's rear end was as well muscled as the rest of him.

Here, tangled in the threads of silvery moonlight, Wufei thought that Duo had never looked more beautiful. Lips were parted in silent acquiescence, face flushed with the passion that had only just taken them in its grips, and his eyes were bright with the inner fire that only Duo could possess. Reaching down, Wufei took one of Duo's hands in his, tangling their fingers. Raising their joined hands, he pressed the inside of Duo's wrist to his lips. Duo's pulse jumped there, and he felt it, beating strong, and fast.

Seeing the surprise flickering in Duo's eyes at the touch, Wufei wondered. Has no one ever romanced you, Duo?

Almond shaped eyes narrowed slightly as he considered what he did know of Duo's past. It was very little, but what he had gleaned from the fragments told him that Duo hadn't had the benefit of a large family such as his. Granted, the traditions of his family often made their interactions stiff and formal, but he at least had somewhere to return to if he wished. Duo, it seemed, had nowhere but here. Was that why he always felt the need to be underfoot? Did he crave human contact that much?

"Wufei?"

He closed his eyes, jaw tensing as warmth pooled in his groin from just having his name spoken aloud, leaving the friction of Duo's body against his very uncomfortable. But it was a welcome discomfort.

"You aren't mad, are you?"

Eyes flew open to regard Duo with some astonishment.

"Mad? If I was mad, you would know it," he added, sounding a bit closer to the Wufei that Duo had grown accustomed to.

"I dunno... the look on your face there..." he trailed off, offering Wufei a slight smile.

"It is nothing," Wufei dismissed, knowing that his thoughts on Duo's past until it was freely offered to him would not be appreciated.

Now that words had intruded, however, he was going to discuss something with Duo. It was important to him to leave every bit of the past behind before moving on. And he could not conceivably see doing that by keeping this from the boy who would become his lover. He knew it would not be easily forgiven otherwise. Duo believed in complete honesty above all else, and Wufei was bound by his love for him, and their friendship, to honor that.

"Yeah?" The other questioned with something closer to his original grin as he tightened his grip on Wufei's hand.

Wufei nodded curtly.

He saw doubt cloud Duo's eyes again and cursed himself for the manners which made perfect sense in the world that he had come from, but never to this open, caring boy.

Wanting to reassure him, the Chinese pilot reached up and brushed hair back from Duo's forehead, fingers gentle and lingering just enough that the other knew it was difficult to touch him without wanting to continue touching him.

"There is something I need to tell you."

Some of his passion cooled at the serious tone of Wufei's voice. Damn him, but he was frightened that the other boy was going to reject him. After touching him like that, after making him feel so complete, after making him feel so cared for. No one had ever made him feel that way before. Sister Helen, Father Maxwell, Solo... they had cared for him in their own separate ways, but never like this, never as Wufei did.

"Hey Wu, you can tell me," he urged, sounding more certain than he was.

Wufei didn't say anything for the longest time, just stared at Duo in a way that made it difficult for the other boy to breathe. And then, slowly, he smiled.

It was the most beautiful thing Duo had ever seen.

Wufei Chang was nice looking when he was scowling, nice looking when he had that carefully blank expression on his face, nice looking period, but Wufei Chang smiling a complete, tooth-filled smile, was stunning.

"Geez, Wu, you really know how to sock a guy in the gut."

Was that really him, sounding like an out of shape dork who had just gotten done climbing 50 flights of stairs?

Somehow, that had been the wrong thing to say.

That beautiful smile faded away to reveal serious, unsmiling Wufei. And worse, he moved away from Duo so that the sudden, unwelcome rush of cold air filling the space where his body had been was like a harsh slap.

"Hey... Wufei?"

Wufei bowed his head, his back to Duo, and forced himself to relax. If Duo would just quit saying his name like that, it would be a much easier task to accomplish.

Straightening, he said with less warmth, his general feelings on discussing this not warm ones to begin with, "Let us sit. Here," he added, indicating to the two chairs nearest the edge of the balcony with an impatient jerk of his hand.

Duo swallowed a groan. Further separation...

Rushing past Wufei as fast as his limp would allow, he threw himself into the nearest chair, legs sprawling out in front of him to take pressure from his knee.

"Okay, ready!" Duo informed him, flashing Wufei a grin.

The corners of Wufei's mouth tightened. Duo's mask was back in place. But for now, it could not be helped.

Gingerly lowering himself into the chair, he settled his arms on either rest and stared out into the darkness.

Duo had almost given up on Wufei even speaking, and had begun to squirm in his seat, both from having to sit still for so long and because he was worried about what the other was going to say, when Wufei's voice came, quiet and even more composed than usual.

"I was married."

Silence. Wufei was almost afraid to look over at Duo, but he forced himself, not quite certain what he was expecting to see.

Wufei had been married? Anti-social, likes-his-privacy Wufei had been married? Somehow, that just didn't compute. And for some ridiculous reason he didn't want to fully explore, Duo felt a surge of jealousy and no small amount of hurt.

But it wasn't like he and Wufei had been close before. The Chinese pilot had always kept to himself, and even when he was bugging him, Duo hadn't gotten much out of him.

Some of that must have shown on his face, because Wufei's mouth tightened at the corners again in the way that it did when he was displeased.

"Married? When?" Duo finally managed to choke out.

All traces of what they had shared only moments before was fast fading, and Wufei's hands tightened convulsively on the arm rests. He had known that it would be this way. It was why he hadn't wanted to speak of it. But he had too much respect for Duo to keep it from him, and he cared too much to ever lie.

"When I was 14. It was an arranged marriage."

Duo was by nature an empath, and because of his own feelings for Wufei, he was even more sensitive to the Chinese boy's shifts in mood. Whatever Wufei may be thinking now, Duo could tell he was very uncomfortable with discussing this. The problem was, he had no way of knowing exactly _why_. It could have been because she meant a lot to him...

"What... happened? How come you aren't still married?"

"She died." Wufei replied, matter of fact.

Duo sat back. "Hey, Wu, I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Don't apologize. It was my choice to tell you this."

Now was the opening he needed.

"Why _did_ you tell me?"

Wufei's eyes settled on him completely then, his expression grave.

Duo blinked under the weight of the stare.

"Do you really need to ask me that, Duo?"

Duo was too busy getting over the shock of having Wufei call him by his first name to form a coherent reply. But when it penetrated, he realized how Wufei had taken his words.

"No, Wufei," he answered softly. "I wanted to hear you say it."

Dark eyes never left his. They held his own prisoner with their strength.

"Because I thought you deserved to hear it before we made love."

_Now_ he felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

"Oh..." was all he could manage, perfectly aware that he sounded like a moron.

Wufei smiled suddenly, catching him off guard, and sending him completely reeling. He had severely underestimated this quiet, studious pilot of Nataku.

The smile faded again, and he looked away. "I didn't love her. Not in the way a husband should his wife. She and I disagreed on many things. She was a warrior, and... she thought I was weak for avoiding fighting. She died defending the colony from OZ. So I..."

"Took her place."

Wufei's head jerked around. "Yes. I wanted to bring her justice and honor her memory."

Duo's smile was slightly bitter. "You only had to remember her to honor her memory, Wufei."

Wufei turned away again.

"Sorry. I didn't mean..." Duo began, only to fade away into hesitation.

"I know."

They lapsed into a silence that was not entirely comfortable.

"Wufei..."

"Yes?"

"Thanks for telling me."

A hand reached out between them, palm up. With a smile, Duo slid his own into it, slim, pale fingers tangling with strong, bronzed ones. 


	8. Chapter 8

Two slight figures sat in oversized chairs, hands spanning the space between to clasp one another in defiance of the distance. Their eyes were on the darkness before them, watching the trees sway and bend to the will of the wind, who whispered through their leaves like the voices of those long past. There was a comfort in this, a tranquillity that they were loathe to shatter. Life allotted them so few moments such as these, that if they didn't capture it now, it would slide past their fingertips, dancing just out of reach until the next time.

Perhaps there was more to it as well. They stood on the verge of making a decision that would forever change the relationship between them. Once it was made, there would be no going back. Neither would be satisfied with anything less. The Chinese did not take love and the giving of it lightly, and the American had learned to hold fast to only what was important, for he had lost much and been given so little in return.

Their world was one filled with conflict, fighting, and loss, a place where beauty was scarce unless you dug deep to find it. In the midst of this, if two hearts could find a mutual link, if arms could find comfort in each other, and a short escape from the harsh reality of duty, then whatever new pain, sorrow, or loss it would introduce was well worth it.

A short, soft sigh drew his attention, and Wufei turned to regard the outline of Duo's profile in silence. How different he looked without the braid. Younger, and more vulnerable somehow. But he knew, perhaps better than anyone, that the strength that made up the core of the Deathscythe pilot was very much there and real. He caught you off guard because of his laughter and his smiles, but when it mattered most, he shed them and showed the steel.

Unable to bear that in the face of his own uncertainty and cowardice, Wufei looked away. He ran from everything. From his responsibility toward Meiran, from his feelings for Duo, from his actions as a Gundam pilot. He ran from them all and hid himself away in his room, surrounded by books that could not talk back, could not accuse, and could never feel. Duo wanted to force him to change all that. And Wufei wanted him to succeed.

"It must be hard," Duo's voice cut through the silence.

Wufei started. "What?"

"Seeing things in black and white."

He tensed, the hold he had on Duo's hand loosening.

"Don't get insulted," Duo continued, tightening his hold. "You see things in terms of right and wrong, and I admire you for that. But there isn't always a set way for things to be. There's exceptions to every rule, and what might not work for one situation, does for another. For someone that honor means so much to, it must be hard to fight in a war where there are no clear boundaries and where you have to compromise your principles."

Wufei stared at Duo, his mouth open in surprise. The other pilot was still not looking at him, and there was a wistful quality in his tone that said he knew what he spoke of because he had experienced it firsthand. What amazed him, was how completely the American had read him, how close to his heart the other boy had touched. No one had ever tried to look that closely before. Only Duo. Only he cared enough to see what Wufei kept hidden away.

"Duo..."

The other boy turned to look at him, and there was a distant expression in the moonlight reflected from his eyes, and a soft, almost aching smile on his lips.

"Don't beat yourself up too much, huh, Wufei? In a perfect world, we wouldn't have to be doing this."

His heart hurt. So much so, that it wanted to break free from the confines of his chest with the intensity of the ache. Was this love? This jumble of wanting, needing, and giving?

"Thank you."

Duo's expression turned quizzical. "For what?"

Dark, somber eyes held his. "For caring. For listening. For trying."

Now, it was Duo's turn to feel the ache. Wufei meant too much. And that scared him, but he could no more stop it from happening than he could the progress of a train.

"We fight for that perfect world," Wufei voiced suddenly, eyes turning to the skyline.

Duo sighed again. "Yeah... and we don't even know if it really exists."

"But we need to. We need to believe that it does. It is all that there is for us now."

"No."

The force behind that one word had him turning to look at Duo again.

"We have each other. All of us Gundam pilots... And our colonies. You've got a family, right Wufei?" Duo added, seeming to need to pull them away from the seriousness of the conversation.

There was something in the way he said it too, that made Wufei understand his need to hear it.

"Yes... A large family steeped in tradition... We follow the ways of the old. Justice and honor and respect. I was nothing like any of them until Meiran died, until I took Nataku to fight."

Duo didn't have to ask who Meiran was.

What of you, Duo? Do you have a family? Or was I right?

"And you?"

Duo's smile turned slightly bitter. "Not now, Wufei. Let's not talk about me."

The Chinese pilot wanted to press, but he left it a that. Duo would share when he was ready, and for now, that was enough. Where he had needed to speak of his past before committing himself to the present, Duo seemed content to let things stand as they were for the time being. He could respect that.

Wufei watched Duo for a moment. "And you, you fight because you don't wish for others to experience the pain and loss you have. You believe in the ideal of peace, but you know we can't achieve it through words alone. You will do what is necessary to make that dream a reality, even if it means going against everything you had ever believed in. You are strong for that."

Duo was stunned into silence, a rarity for him. He had not expected Wufei to be looking past the surface while he was. Wufei always seemed so focused on the present moment, on what was important to the task at hand. Duo could see now, as he had not really before, that Wufei was a dreamer at heart, someone who had once looked to tradition and memories with great importance. Time and circumstance had stolen that from him, but they could never completely stamp it out.

Without warning, Wufei let his hand drop from the other's and leaned over the side of his chair to grasp the edges of Duo's. With a quick jerk, he had the chairs tucked snugly against one another, and himself positioned so that he was looking down into that startled, upturned face.

Duo felt the change thread through Wufei, through the air, and answered it with his own. Longings drifted on the silence between them, reaching out to tangle them together in an invisible web. Words had no meaning here, only feelings and the whisper of skin against skin, as Wufei reached down to take Duo's chin in his fingers and slowly lower his head until his mouth was settled over the other boy's.

Just the warm pressure of lips, the simple pleasure of that first touch. It was no longer than a second, before Wufei lifted his head and stared into Duo's eyes, finding himself lost and swimming amid a sea of endless blue. Blood hummed, skin tingled, and hearts ached. More was the only way out. More and then more, until it was too much and not enough all at once.

Duo reached up, unbound Wufei's hair, and watched as the sheen of black silk swung down to his shoulders, to frame his face and tangle on the wind. While he watched his lover's face, he slid his hands into it, caught great fistfuls, as Wufei's eyes drifted shut on a sigh of pleasure and his body instinctively drifted toward the source of that pleasure.

Mouths sought out one another again, hands curled and lost themselves in the softness of their partner's hair, and bodies were separated only by the existence of plastic. They took the moment of their lips pressed against each other for what it was, felt it roll across their skin in sweet waves of desire.

Duo was the first to yield, his lips parting to accept the first shaky breath from Wufei's. The world outside them ceased to be, and nothing existed except their mouths, fused together as tongues came out to meet somewhere between the heated barriers. They touched tentatively, tangled, and then mated, as they sought to meet the rising passion that threatened to consume them both in the flames of need.

Somewhere in the midst of this, Duo lost the last bit of his strength as his insides turned to liquid fire and it felt more like he was hanging on to Wufei than holding him. The Chinese boy held a lot behind that silent mask of his. Certainly, a passion that rocked him to his toes and made him want to melt into the cracks of the wood...

Wufei was more than a little stunned as he pulled away from Duo and stared at him through heavy-lidded, blurred eyes. He had thought kissing him would be pleasant, but he never expected this explosion of feeling that left every part of him alive and aching, as if he was bared for all the world to see and didn't care. And what was more, it wasn't simply desire... It was his caring, his love, that completed it, that cinched it, and that told him for now, Duo was what he wanted and nothing more.

With ease and care, he let his hands slide down and gripped Duo around the waist, where he lifted and pulled the Deathscythe pilot until he was in his lap and against his chest. Duo slid his arms up and around Wufei's neck, his hair spilling all around them like a living blanket. And Wufei gave into a weakness that had been plaguing him for days by burying his face in the softness of it and inhaling deeply.

Rising, Duo curled against him, Wufei left the darkness of the balcony behind, navigating his way through the dimly lit house and down the hall, until they found his room, bathed in moonlight from the open window, that scattered itself across the floor like a welcoming rug. The door shut softly behind them as Wufei carried him the short distance to the bed and carefully set him on the edge.

Hearts pounded in unison as he fell to his knees and curved his arms around Duo's waist, pulling the boy into an embrace so that nothing came between them but the fabric of their clothing. Duo thought Wufei had never looked more beautiful, with his hair falling free and his eyes so dark and without any defense, their every emotion open and there for him to read. No one had ever looked at him with such honesty before, with such care, or with such need. Wufei needed him. Wufei wanted him. And Duo was beyond humbled.

With not altogether steady hands, Duo reached for the hem of the T-shirt he had changed in to, to lift it over his head, but was stopped by Wufei, who lifted it with thumbs only, fingers sliding across his skin, causing muscles to jump, his breath to catch, and a moan to escape upon exhale.

Bronzed fingers came up again to press against ivory skin, and Wufei dropped his lips to touch above Duo's collarbone, where his pulse fluttered. He slid lower, opening his mouth to draw his tongue across Duo's shoulder, burning the other's skin, eliciting a gasp, and leaving Wufei to savor the taste and feel of him.

When Wufei pulled back, Duo reached out, eyes dark with barely suppressed desire, as he tried to get the buttons of the shirt the Chinese boy wore to cooperate with him. Impatience had him ripping down, sending the offending snaps flying to the ground, where they clattered and slid across the floor to the darkened corners untouched by the moon. Trembling fingers lifted the undershirt left behind, and then smoothed themselves to the contours of Wufei's chest, liking the hiss of air that escaped the other's lips, and the way Wufei's fingers came up to grip his forearms.

Lips met again, and bare skin pressed against bare skin for the first time, their pulses and heartbeats melting into one so that they could not separate the two. The need to touch and explore was overwhelming, and fingers touched here and there, and lips slid across heated flesh, pressed into the sweet scent of hair, and met each other, where their individual tastes mingled.

Duo slid off the edge of the bed and onto Wufei, who was bent back on his own heels, eyes wide with the feel of Duo's arousal against his own. His breath caught painfully in his chest as he allowed himself to be pushed back all the way, falling against the floor with a noticeable thud. He looked up to find Duo sprawled across him, the American's smiling face inches from his own.

"Your knee-"

"Is fine," Duo assured him, pleasure arching through him at the unsteadiness of Wufei's voice.

Dark eyes softened as he reached up to take Duo's face in his hands. The other boy turned his face to the side, pressing his lips to the inside of Wufei's wrist. And then words ceased to be needed again, as Wufei rolled carefully to the side and came up, half his body covering Duo's as he stared at it in consideration.

The Chinese pilot ran a finger experimentally along Duo's side, marveling at the response, the way his muscles tensed and quivered, rising toward him as if seeking more. He brought his hand lower, splaying it across the flesh of his stomach just above the waistband of his loose fitting pants. Pressing a kiss to his side, Wufei deftly slid his fingers into the warmth beneath the pants, noting Duo's sharp intake of breath. Fingers encountered crisp hair, and then closed around the combination of softness and strength.

Duo's hips jerked upward, and he cried out, "Wufei!"

A smile formed as dark eyes swept shut, an answering tug pulling on his groin at having his name called with such abandon.

Duo's palms flexed against the floor, his breath coming in short, quick gasps as he tried to deal with the sensations having Wufei's hands on him created. The Chinese pilot was certainly not sparing him any mercy, as his fingers curved, and pressed, and moved in a rhythm that was taking him one step closer to the edge of release.

Then, abruptly it stopped, and cold air washed across the center of his heat, before his pants were tossed aside and he was only given a moment to regain his breath. Wufei's mouth, hot and damp, brushed across his stomach, playing a game of making lazy circles until it moved past his navel and pulled him deep into warmth. The rhythm began all over again, and Duo could feel the hold on his control slipping through his trembling fingertips.

"H-hey Wu-Wufei, not yet, I-"

Long fingers reached up to press against his lips and he closed his eyes, letting himself be swept away with the feelings that seemed to be coming from every part of him, leaving him weak and wanting less, but craving more. It was the most exquisite pain he had ever experienced, building and building until he thought he would break into a million tiny pieces. And then he did. He shattered as his hips arched off the floor, and the waves of pleasure poured through him, leaving him hot and cold and finally too weak to move.

When he opened his eyes, it was to find Wufei just above him, staring at him intently. Unable to form words, he let his own eyes do the talking, as he reached up and pulled the other boy down. They lay like that for some time, Wufei listening to the rapid beating of Duo's heart, beyond comfortable, beyond content, before he came to his knees and pulled the Deathscythe pilot into his arms to once again deposit on the bed.

Duo rose to meet him when he joined the former on the bed, reaching out to tug Wufei's own pants down his hips, liking the innocent way the Chinese boy's face flushed. The boy could love him as if he had done that many times before, and then when it came his turn, his inexperience shone through. That was more than fine with Duo. They could learn together. Each the other's first.

To both his shock and pleasure, Duo found that Wufei was bronze everywhere, as if the Chinese pilot made a habit of wandering around in the nude. Which was probably far from the truth, but it made an interesting image for Duo to mull over.

He pressed his lips to the hollow of Wufei's throat, drawing a pattern down his body with the tip of his tongue, stopping only long enough to draw a lazy circle around his arched nipple, before taking it into his mouth and gently rubbing it against edge of his tongue. Wufei's startled exclamation had him smiling, as he by-passed his navel entirely to part his legs and press kisses on the inside of his thigh.

Wufei instinctively quivered and jerked away from him, Duo's breath fanning across his skin in a way that was entirely unsettling but welcome at the same time. He could not offer up much protest as skilled fingers traveled across his body, seeming not to miss any part of him. The touch lit his skin afire, showed him what it felt like to fly outside of his Gundam. And when they lifted, he found himself reaching out for more.

Duo lay beside him now, and their arms were wrapped around one another, bodies pressed together, Duo's hair trapped between them as their lips met again and again, pulling, touching, and exploring.

Abruptly, the American rolled away from him, rising to his feet with a slightly painful jerk. He was a magnificent study in the moonlight, surrounded by a cloud of dark hair, and for a moment, all Wufei could do was stare at him in silent admiration.

"I'll be right back," Duo promised, when he was finally able to tear his eyes away from the sight of Wufei lying on his bed, head propped up on his hand, his body a length of lithe muscle.

Wufei lay where Duo left him, feeling at peace and for the first time, complete. He had never known that giving and taking pleasure could bring so much with it. All he knew, was that in this moment, he loved Duo more than he ever had, and promised himself that he would get up the courage to tell the American pilot so.

True to his word, Duo hobbled back in to the room a short time later, something clutched in his hand.

Brows raised, Wufei asked, "What is that?"

To his credit, the American pilot colored slightly. "It's... lotion."

"Lotion?"

"For..." his words faltered. He, who was so good at talking his way through and out of anything, didn't know quite how to explain this to Wufei.

Collapsing gratefully onto the bed next to the Chinese boy to relieve the weight from his injured knee, he held it up and said quietly, "I want you inside of me."

Another blush swept across Wufei's cheeks and he could only manage, "Oh..."

"Do you...?"

Wufei nodded.

Duo smiled, and Wufei, who was touched by it, reached up to finger his cheek. "You are beautiful."

His heart caught. "But not stupid?"

Wufei felt a smile bloom. "No, not stupid."

And while he was poised above him, eyes locked on that beautiful profile, he said, "Duo... I... I love you."

Before the American could answer, he plunged deep into him, holding on to him tightly, remaining unmoving as he fought to keep control of his near shredded mind. "Hey... W-Wu," Duo managed on a shaky whisper, pain blending with pleasure, "do you mean it? Do you love me?"

He moved.

"Yes. You should know me better than that," he drew out.

Duo thought he would burst, both from the pleasure of Wufei's words and the pleasure of his hands on him again.

"I love you too, Wufei Chang."

And the rhythm began again, taking them both higher, flying on invisible wings, closer to another human than they had ever been, and together over the edge of reality, where their minds and bodies shattered and were carried away on the moonbeams dancing across the floor. 


	9. Chapter 9

As always, Duo awoke slowly, savoring the feeling of muscles stretching, mind battling through the fog, and eyes opening inch by careful inch to take in the light a bit at a time. This time, however, he felt more relaxed than ever before, as if he had slept for ages. And... Blue eyes shot open suddenly, to find a bronzed arm wrapped possessively around his waist and an equally bronzed body pressed firmly against his side, a sheen of ebony hair obscuring a well-known face like a curtain of fine silk.

"So you weren't a dream," he whispered softly.

A smile curving his lips, he reached up to run his fingers lightly across the arm draped over him. With a care, he gently moved the black hair away from the face, so that he may look upon Wufei while he slept. The Chinese boy looked innocent and uncaring in sleep, the act having smoothed all lines or worries from his face. While Duo thought he looked beautiful this way, he felt the Nataku pilot had never looked more so than when his eyes were filled with passion and he was saying those words Duo both feared and craved.

I love you.

They had both said it, and both meant it. Where this would take them now, was anyone's guess, but Duo didn't think he minded. His entire life had been one great gamble, one chance after another, with no way of knowing whether he would come out on top, in the middle, or crushed at the bottom. What better risk than your heart? There was so much to give and be given, that he was certain he didn't want to miss out.

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss against the edge of the Chinese boy's lips, moving up his face to nip at his ear with teeth.

Wufei awoke to delicious shivers of heat coursing through his body, and the whispered words right next to his ear, "Hey Wufei, I think you did more than get me out of my pants this time."

"Shut up, Maxwell," he muttered sleepily, but there was no bite in his words, and even as he was saying them, he was turning and pulling Duo to him.

"Hello," Duo breathed, as he found himself sprawled across Wufei and staring into his face.

Wufei smiled. Duo melted.

"Good morning."

Grinning, the American pilot corrected. "Good afternoon."

Wufei groaned, closing dark eyes momentarily. "You are a bad influence on me."

Duo leaned down to press a kiss to his neck. "So. You like it."

Lips twitched. "Maybe."

The Deathscythe pilot fell into indignant sputtering that was lost when Wufei's lips silenced him and pulled him into a wonderfully exploratory kiss.

After the draining show of affection, Duo slid down until he was lying in the crook of Wufei's arm, where he rested his head against the Chinese boy's chest and listened to the rapid beating of his heart and felt the uneven pattern of his pulse.

Wufei wrapped both arms around him without hesitation, marveling still at the soft press of skin against skin. He never would have imagined this was where he would find himself, or that it would be exactly what he wanted. Duo quieted those inner voices that had always plagued him, and left him with a sense of completion he had never found outside of piloting Nataku. There were no certainties, no guarantees, and as a soldier of war, he understood this better than most. But none of it mattered to him, so long as he could remain this way.

"How is your knee?" He intoned quietly.

Duo smiled against his skin, unable to resist touching the other there with his lips. That was Wufei. Always thinking ahead, and mothering.

"It's fine. It hurts, but it's gonna until it heals."

"I have something for you to put on it when we get up. It will reduce the swelling and take away some of the pain."

"Lotion?"

As he had hoped, the Chinese pilot let out a little uneven gasp of air, color spreading across his cheeks.

"Why didn't you give it to me last night?" Duo asked, when the other didn't comment.

"I was a bit distracted," Wufei replied, tone rich with personal amusement.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by Duo's soft snort of laughter. Wufei could sense no unhappiness on Duo's part, which was why it took him by surprise to hear Duo suddenly address him in such a serious tone.

"Hey Wu, I need to talk to you."

His heart caught painfully.

"About?"

Duo raised his head, blue eyes boring into black with the intensity of his feelings.

"My feelings for you won't change, Wufei. It's not about that."

He released the breath he had not known he was holding, amazed that Duo had heard all that in one word.

The American boy settled back down. "No, it's about something else. It's about my past."

Something in the way Duo said it told him that this would not be pleasant, or easy. Stroking fingers down his back in offered comfort, Wufei remained silent, allowing Duo to speak when he felt he could. This was how he wanted it to be, with Duo telling him only when he was ready. What was given freely, was given with love and without resentment. Impatience took more than it was supposed to, more than was ready to be given, and since Wufei wanted everything without reservations, he would wait.

"I'm an orphan, you know," he began, his tone oddly subdued and so unlike Duo, that it tore at Wufei like little pinpricks against his heart. "I don't really remember where I came from or who my parents were, but that doesn't matter much. My life pretty much began when I was seven and Solo found me and took me in anyhow. He wasn't that much older than me, but he took care of all us orphans and made certain we had before he did. They all became my family of sorts. The first I'd ever had."

Wufei continued to listen, offering support as he combed his fingers through Duo's hair, unaware as he did so that he was making it much easier for the other to talk. What he did know, was that he had a greater understanding of why Duo found human interaction so important, and why he was so adamant about them being there for each other, being a family.

"I was about ten when Solo died. Some stupid virus wiping out the colony, and of course, you couldn't get cured unless you had money," he spat bitterly, surprised at how much it still ate at him. "So I stole some. But I wasn't quick enough to save him, and when he died, I wanted to die with him. But I didn't, so I lived more instead. And tried to keep our family of orphans together."

A lot of responsibility for a ten year old boy. But then, Wufei understood that Duo had never really been a child. Life had not given him that option. And it took from him still, taking advantage of his giving nature, his strength of commitment when fighting for something he believed in, and his need to make a difference so that others would never have to experience what he did.

"Duo." Wufei said softly, brushing fingers across his face.

Duo trembled, felt his resolve threaten to crumble, and the hot burn that pushed at the back of his eyes. Not yet. He had to get this all out.

"We were doing fine until the Federation nabbed us. That's what they were called in those days, the Alliance was. We got out though, and somehow we were taken in by the Maxwell church. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen... they gave us all a lot. But like everything else around me, they died. Died because of war, died because I..." he trailed off, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He had never told anyone this before. Never.

Tightening his hold, Wufei resisted the urge to tell Duo to stop now before he hurt himself further. He had never known what it was like to feel pain because the one you loved did. But he did now, and he was of the opinion that it was the worse kind.

"Some colony rebels took over the church. They were cruel to us, just as cruel as the Federation. How can cruelty like that breed peace?"

Inch by painful inch, Duo could feel the weight he had been carrying around in his heart lifting. Somehow, he knew that telling just anyone would not have produced the same results. This was Wufei, who, contrary to appearances, always listened. But he didn't just listen, he cared. And that made all the difference.

"They wanted a Mobile Suit. I just wanted them to leave us alone. So I said I'd steal one. It wasn't easy, but I did it. In the end, it didn't matter. The Federation destroyed the church. They... they killed everyone in it. I found Sister Helen... she... she was still alive. She... even at the end, she was thinking about someone else. About me... She didn't deserve to die, Wufei. None of them did. Where was their God then? What kind of God lets good people die?"

The broken, aching note in Duo's voice tore at him, forcing him to close his eyes.

"I didn't cry, you know. Even when... I didn't cry," Duo said softly, his voice distant. "I didn't want to give it the satisfaction."

Life. It had taken so much from him. It couldn't have his tears too.

"It's all right, Duo," Wufei said with more calm than he felt, reaching down to lift his chin so that American boy could see that he cared.

"Boys don't cry," he whispered.

"It's all right," Wufei repeated, hand curving to rest under Duo's chin.

"Boys don't cry, Wufei," he said again, even as one hot tear escaped his eye and slid down his cheek.

But Wufei could. Wufei could have his tears.

Wufei held him while he cried, the force of his sobs shaking his thin shoulders, each one torn from somewhere deep inside him, where they had remained buried and denied for so very long. It was a great effort, but Wufei held his own tears in check, fighting the painful burn of them against his eyelids. He would not take this moment from Duo, who needed it. His moment had come and gone. And in this one, he understood again just how dangerous love was when you felt helpless.

When the tears had subsided, and breathing returned to normal, Duo laughed weakly, grasping the blanket to wipe at Wufei's chest.

"Hey Wu, I got you pretty wet, huh? Don't know why you put up with me. I'm not much in comparison-"

"Don't!" Wufei snapped, grabbing a startled Duo by the chin rather harshly and forcing the boy to look at him.

"Don't put yourself down. Ever. You are worth ten of me, with your smiles and your strength and your beauty..."

Eyes wide and unblinking, Duo stared into Wufei's face, the latter's twisted with fury and reproach. He had only seen Wufei this angry twice now. When he had come barreling around that corner and leapt into the middle of the fight at the research facility, and last night, when the Chinese boy had snapped at him for being so careless with his life.

"Yeah... okay..." he replied, his voice somewhat unsteady.

Wufei's expression softened. "Sorry... I just... love you."

The smile Duo gave him was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen.

"Yeah, Wu, I love you. And don't forget it. You're stuck with me," he added, twisting neatly out of Wufei's grasp and rolling out of bed onto a stiff knee that very nearly gave out under him.

With a speed that never ceased to amaze him, Wufei had thrown the tangled sheets aside and was next to him in an instant, one arm around his waist in support.

"You're handy to have around," he praised, liking the feel of Wufei against him.

"Idiot," Wufei muttered, feeling himself being pulled into the spell.

Pulling away, his hands coming up to rest on his hips, Duo said without preamble, "Let's go get my stuff and move it in here."

The boy certainly didn't let any grass grow under his feet. But Wufei wouldn't deny that the warmth Duo's request caused left him with a breathlessness, a speechlessness that he was hard pressed to get around. And it had nothing to do with the fact that the American was standing naked before him. Well, mostly didn't, anyhow.

"We aren't going like this," he chastised, failing to put the usual bite in his tone.

Duo grinned. "Duh. We'll just throw some pants on."

"We haven't showered."

If it were possible, the grin grew wider. "We will. Afterwards."

Something about the way he looked told Wufei they would be doing more than showering...

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

Brows drawing together into a frown, Wufei followed Duo down the hall, carrying the last box of his CDs. The things were heavier than he expected them to be. And how in the world Duo could get so much junk in the closet space allotted him by Heero was beyond the Chinese pilot.

"Why do you have so much music? You hardly ever listen to it..."

Duo tossed him a look over his shoulder, his hair fanning out around him in a way that drew Wufei's eyes. "Heero wouldn't let me, that's why."

Wufei could not say, after getting a good look at some of the titles, he blamed the Wing pilot...

"You will, won't you, Wu?"

"Hm?" He asked, passing through the door to his room.

"Let me listen to my CDs."

Duo fisted his hands on his hips again, drawing Wufei's eyes lower as he set the box on the floor. His room was about to get a great deal more crowded...

Dark eyes met blue. How could he not? How could he deny the boy anything? He was weak... But he did not mind this time.

"Yes."

Limping across the space between them, Duo threw himself into Wufei's arms and kissed the Chinese pilot enthusiastically. Wufei felt his knees give as his hands slid up to curve around a slim waist, and his mind drifted away on a comfortable haze of passion.

"How about that shower?" Duo asked when he pulled away, breathless and wanting more, but in a different way.

Wufei nodded mutely, allowing himself to be led into the bathroom, where Duo started the water up and reached out to peel Wufei's pants from him. They were tossed carelessly behind them, where they hit the door and were soon to be joined by Duo's.

It had never occurred to him that a shower could be so erotic. Always before, it had been nothing but a necessity to cleanse his body. But with Duo beneath the spray, hands covered in soap and sliding across his body, taking as much delight in touching as Wufei did in being touched, the entire event took a much more different meaning. He was not certain he could ever step foot in a stall without thinking of this again.

"Turn around," he ordered, reaching for the shampoo.

Duo did as he was told, sighing in contentment when Wufei's hands worked through his hair, lingering more than was necessary. Who would have thought he could get this much joy out of washing a rope of annoying human hair? Making his way up to the top, he began massaging Duo's scalp with gentle fingers, knowing that the other pilot had a slight headache from his emotional outburst, even though the American had said nothing. It was amazing how in tune he was with him, so that the slightest thing Duo did drew his attention.

"Hey, Wu," Duo said, his voice thick and lazy with desire, "do you think we could make a habit of this?"

"Do you need me to answer that?"

Duo laughed; a low, carefree sound that tugged Wufei's need of him higher.

Once the conditioner was used and washed out, Duo spun Wufei around and set to work on washing his hair. "I think I'd rather wash yours than mine. It's much shorter... It practically takes me all day to wash mine."

"Mm." Was all the other could manage, with those wonderfully nimble fingers of Duo's pressing in on his skin.

"And," Duo added, rinsing the shampoo out, "you don't even need conditioner. Lucky."

Wufei was about to shoot back a reply along the lines of Duo cutting his hair if it bothered him so much (though he would never truly mean it; he loved Duo's hair nearly as much as the American), when a slim arm snaked out and around his waist, pulling him against a slick, compact body. His words caught in his throat, lost somewhere in the trembling blast of air that escaped his lips instead.

Touching his mouth to the back of Wufei's neck, Duo drew a soft, slow line down it and across his shoulder, while hands slipped lower and sought out the heat of him.

"Duo!" Wufei bit out, when his knees threatened to buckle.

"Wufei... let me make love to you?"

Dark eyes swept shut as a shudder twisted through him. There was such a raw need in the other's voice, as if Duo was afraid he would be rejected.

"You..." he paused to gasp, "need me to answer that?"

On Duo's beautiful laughter, laughter that Wufei could not see how he ever lived without, he let the American pilot position him so that he could grasp on to the shower door and rail for support, and then let him love him, until they were both beyond coherent thought and reduced to mere puddles with the water swirling at their feet and down the drain.

pppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp

Duo sat in the center of Wufei's bed in a mess of sheets, his towel barely covering his lap, let alone his gloriously long legs. His hair was positioned in a wild tangle in his lap, while he fought to draw the brush through it and make it to the end without creating new knots. It was a desperate battle, one that the hair was fast winning.

Wufei, his hair still damp and hanging free, was shrugging into a pair of pants, his bare feet cool against the warmth of the wood. It was going to be exceedingly hot today. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Duo's struggle, a smile tugging at his lips and amusement lurking in his eyes when the other threw his bare arms out helplessly and blurted out a rather nice expletive.

"Would you like help?"

His head snapped up and he glared. "No, it just looks like it!"

Wufei laughed, a full laugh, his head thrown back and his entire being put into the effort of it. Duo watched, transfixed and the brush fell from his fingers to hit his injured knee, sending off a fresh round of cursing from him and a fresh round of laughter from Wufei.

"I'm glad you find this so funny!" He snapped, when Wufei fell next to him, a small container in his hands.

"Oh hush, you big baby," Wufei answered, scooping out some of the cool creme to spread across Duo's knee.

It tingled at first, a cold sensation that made him want to cover his leg, before heat swept through him and he then wanted to wipe it off.

"It will pass," the Chinese pilot informed him impassively, reaching out to take the brush in his hand.

The American found it hard to concentrate on his burning knee when Wufei dragging the brush through his hair felt so much better. The boy did it like a pro too, as if he had spent his entire life brushing and braiding hair.

"Duo, why do you keep your hair in a braid?" Wufei surprised him by asking, as he began the process of braiding.

Duo hesitated, and then answered quietly, "It's a reminder. I've never cut it. Life has taken a lot from me, Wu, but it can't take my hair, not unless I let it. When I look at it, I remember all the beautiful things about life, and the reasons why I'm still alive. The braid... well Sister Helen did it. She tried to cut it when I first came, but I wouldn't let her. So she said it was neater this way. I keep it... because of that, and because it reminds me of her."

"Duo..." Wufei reached around him to hug the boy.

Duo leaned into him, closing his eyes, more grateful than he could ever say.

"Thanks, Wufei."

"Why?"

"For listening."

The Chinese pilot smiled, leaning down to press a kiss against the top of his head.

"Thank you for telling me."

"I've never shared these things with anyone else before," Duo told him seriously, as Wufei went back to braiding his hair.

Though his heart jumped and his hands shook, Wufei kept his voice steady. "I am glad."

Duo smiled, relaxing. "Yeah, me too."

They were both startled when there was a knock on the door.

"Shit! Scare ten years off my life..." The American bit out, pressing his hand to his bare chest.

Wufei rose fluidly, and with a grace Duo had yet to cease admiring, and padded across the floor. "Stay there. I will get it."

The Nataku pilot was even more stunned at who he found standing on the other side.

In his usual bland green tank top and black spandex, Heero Yuy stood, arms folded, and expression intense as he stared back at Wufei. More than a little put off guard at having been caught with his hair down and in nothing more than pants, Wufei returned the stare with equal acerbity. While Duo might have seen it differently, Heero saw only annoyance and cold arrogance in the Chinese pilot's face.

"What do you want?" Wufei demanded, and behind him, Duo rolled his eyes.

Wufei was such a gracious person.

"Where is Duo? His things are not in our room."

Wufei blinked, his stomach tightening at the way Heero said 'our'.

Turning, so that the door was still blocking his view, Wufei looked to Duo, who made a face at him and motioned for him to open the door. While Wufei was an intensely private person, Duo had no problems with letting the entire world know that he and Wufei were together. Which meant, starting with Heero Yuy, who he had once shared a room with, and once had feelings for.

Reluctantly, Wufei stepped aside and pulled the door completely open, giving Heero a clear view of Duo sitting on his bed, his partially braided hair trapped between his fingers, and wearing nothing but a towel.

Duo waved. "Hey Heero, how'd the mission go?"

Heero said nothing, only stared.

Tension leaving him feeling as pliant as stone, Wufei watched as Heero slowly turned his gaze back to him, prussian blue eyes burning into his face, before he spun on his heel and walked away.

"Well, that went well, don't you think?" Duo piped up cheerfully, earning a glare from Wufei as the latter slammed the door.

Deciding that it was time a few more things were addressed, Wufei crossed the floor, slapped himself next to Duo, and grabbed the braid from his hands, finishing the job he had started before he spoke.

"Duo, whether you know it or not, Heero does... or did care for you."

Sharp blue eyes focused on him. "Wufei..."

Wufei expelled a forceful breath, finding it did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest.

"He did, Duo."

Duo sighed, reaching out to slip his hand into Wufei's.

"Heero may have cared for me," he tilted his head back so that he could look at Wufei, "but you love me. And you show it."

"Duo..."

"And I love you. So we're even," he added, grinning to ease the seriousness from the situation. "Yes, I love you..." Wufei agreed, sliding his arms around Duo and pressing his cheek against his hair.

And that made all the difference. 


End file.
